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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25741861">Chaos in the Air Tonight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl'>foggys_cupcake_girl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Credence Barebone, Bad Seraphina Picquery, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Original Percival Graves, Canon-Typical Violence, Confident Credence Barebone, Consensual Kink, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Dry Orgasm, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gellert Grindelwald Being an Asshole, Hair-pulling, Happy Credence Barebone, Hurt Original Percival Graves, M/M, MACUSA are not nice, Marathon Sex, Mental Health Issues, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Newt is a good bro, Not Canon Compliant - Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Painplay, Percival Graves &amp; Newt Scamander friendship, Pregnant Percival Graves, Protective Credence Barebone, Protective Theseus Scamander, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Switching, Therapy, Theseus is hella overprotective but he is also a good bro, Top Credence Barebone, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), also canon typical dumbassery, obscurus sex, you'll need a permission slip for this feels trip</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:41:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>59,210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25741861</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Percival thought it couldn't get any worse after Grindelwald caused him to lose his unborn child in captivity. He was wrong. His former best friend ordered the murder of his other half, and she expects him to keep working for her like nothing happened. The only thing to do, clearly, is leave the hospital and run away to England with his former subordinate's magizoologist boyfriend. But when Grindelwald escapes, Percival learns that Credence is still alive...and the world is out to get him. Percival is tired of running. He just wants to protect what's his. But how can he do that when it seems like the fates themselves are conspiring against the man he loves?</p><p>**12/3/20 UPDATE - chapters 3 and 4 have been altered, a new scene has been added at the start of chapter 4 just FYI* ^_^</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves, Queenie Goldstein/Jacob Kowalski, Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander (background)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Just in Case All the Magic Dies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Whooo boy. Okay. So. I am very very very VERY nervous about posting this. I'm always extra-nervous about posting heavy angst and while this one does eventually devolve into soft floofy domestic!Gradence (at least, that's my plan, anyway) it starts off heavy and. Yeah. I'm always afraid of offending someone. So. Please don't be too hard on me in the comments.</p><p>Honestly guys, I have no real excuse for this other than 1) I love mpreg and wanted a reason to write pregnant!Graves, and 2) I truly hate CoG and will AU the hell out of it whenever I can. This isn't like "Liberandum," btw. You're getting to see this one written in "real-time." So. Enjoy that uncertainty with me. :P</p><p>There is a BIG HONKING GIANT TW on this story for miscarriage, and the fall-out related to all of that. I probably won't even bother individually TW-ing it with every chapter, because it's pretty much a major thread throughout the whole story. I will say that in this chapter we find out precisely *how and why* he loses the baby, which could be an even worse TW, so. Yeah. See end notes for spoilers if that might be a concern.</p><p>...right, I've apologized enough for this fic's existence, please enjoy, if I haven't scared you off yet! ;P</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He dares to hope when he first wakes, and it is his first and most terrible error.</p><p>His hand goes straight to his stomach, a tremor of anticipation wracking his fragile heart. If he is in a hospital, he reasons, perhaps they managed to save a life far more precious than his…</p><p>But he feels no tingle of magic when he touches himself there, no tiny flicker of another soul under his skin. He could feel it when he was first taken. The first twenty-four hours of his captivity were the easiest, when he could still lie to himself that if he just stayed put and waited for extraction, he would make it out and everything would be fine. He’d put a hand to his belly, let his emotions run rampant in the moments that his captor left him alone. He’d feel that little flutter of answering magic, the sign that a new life grew inside him.</p><p>But all of that was days ago. Before—<em> before </em>—</p><p>He shudders at the memory and his heart breaks all over again. He knows he’ll never forget the foot crashing into his stomach, the most brutal no-maj shortcut to causing the most grievous harm Grindelwald could think to inflict on him. <em> That will teach you to try and use occlumency against me, dear Percy…a child’s life for a child’s life, that’s fair, don’t you agree? </em></p><p>Now here he is, alive but bereft, and all he can think as his heart crumbles to pieces inside his chest is, <em> how am I going to tell Credence? </em></p><p>When someone comes into the room it is not a healer, as he expected, but his own subordinate, Tina Goldstein. “Oh, Director Graves…you’re awake!” She hurries to his side. “Don’t move, now, I’m supposed to get a healer—”</p><p>“Wait,” he cuts her off. <em> “Wait, </em> I need to know—what day is it?”</p><p>“December fifteenth.”</p><p>“Merlin’s ass,” he curses under his breath. It’s been thirty-four days since he’s last seen Credence, and he’s sure the poor boy must be worried sick. That is, unless Grindelwald has done something to him, and…no, he won’t think of it. “I need you to do something for me, Goldstein, please—”</p><p>But before he can get out his favor, a healer comes into the room, shoos Goldstein away, and begins to work him over with diagnostic spells and healing spells and potions, so many fucking potions, that leave him weak and dizzy and too lethargic to keep his head up. Side effects, she explains briskly, and leaves him alone to pass out again.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know how much time passes before Seraphina Picquery shows up, and when she does he spends their whole conversation pointedly referencing the pain of what he’s just been through, while she calmly briefs him on what happened while he was in captivity.</p><p>She tells him that Grindelwald used his face to infiltrate MACUSA and seduce a young obscurial (“Is there any other kind?” he snots when Seraphina uses those exact words; he’s never heard of an <em> old </em> obscurial for fuck’s sake) to join him on the dark side. He tried to kill Goldstein and her civilian partner, but they escaped at the last minute. He transported a few of Percival’s team members abroad, but they’re already being called back.</p><p>“Any casualties?” Percival asks her.</p><p>“No. Just a few no-majs and the obscurial.”</p><p>It makes him squirm to hear her dismiss loss of life so casually. “Who are you and what have you done with Seraphina Picquery?” he demands. “<em>Just </em> a few no-majs? Like they didn’t have families too? Like they won’t be missed? What, do they not <em> count </em> anymore?”</p><p>“Oh, stop it. Now you just sound hysterical.” To the healer, who has been hovering outside the door, she snaps, “You, get him a calming draught, he’s obviously still distressed.”</p><p>“I don’t need more drugs,” he says impatiently. “I need you to explain to me how and when no-majs stopped counting as casualties.”</p><p>“I only meant that none of ours were killed, Director Graves.”</p><p>“So I’m still Director, am I?”</p><p>She nods. “Well, you will be after you recover from…” She makes a hand gesture that he supposes indicates his general invalidity. “You suffered quite a few serious injuries.”</p><p>“Yeah, I got that memo, thanks.” The healer appears with the calming draught. Percival waves it away; he’s fine, perfectly clear-headed, and he’d like to stay that way. “I’m going to need more time, Sera. I can’t come back right away. I need…I think I need bereavement leave.”</p><p>“What on earth for? I just told you none of ours were—”</p><p>“I know,” he cuts in, “but I…I was pregnant.” He swallows hard. The helpful healer comes back at him with the calming draught and again he impatiently nudges her away. “I was about three months along when I was…taken. And when he found out, he…” He winces and this time when the healer offers him the cup, he takes it. “He kicked me in the stomach when I wouldn’t tell him what he wanted to know, and…well. I lost…I lost the baby.”</p><p>The calming draught mutes the worst of the anguish that rolls through him at those words, but Seraphina, to his utter shock, looks completely unflustered at this revelation. “According to your healer in charge, you’ll be fit for duty in two weeks. I expect to see you back at work then,” she says briskly.</p><p>“Did you not just hear me tell you that I<em> lost my unborn child?” </em> he demands, and even the calming potion can’t mask the shock he feels at her callousness.</p><p>“I did, and that’s something you can discuss with a MACUSA-approved Legilimency Healer,” she says carelessly. “But in the meantime we have Gellert Grindelwald in custody, and—”</p><p>“And <em> someone else </em> can interrogate him,” Percival cuts her off. “I can’t be in the same room as him, I just can’t. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“You’ll do as I tell you,” she replies matter-of-factly, as if he hadn't even spoken, “because you’re the director of the DMLE and it’s your job. Keep him calm,” she orders the healer. “Give him whatever you have to in order to help him sleep, make sure he gains back the weight he’s lost. I want him fit for work again by the projected time.”</p><p>She leaves, and Percival stares at her retreating back unable to comprehend what just happened. He lost his child, and now, it seems, he has to face the reality that he’s lost his best friend, too.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>It’s another two days before he’s allowed to see Goldstein again. Unlike Seraphina, she is sympathetic and appropriately reacts when he tells her that he lost the baby. “Is there anything I can do?” she asks him.</p><p>“Have you got a time-turner on you?” he says dryly. She smiles sadly and shakes her head. “Actually, Goldstein, there <em> is </em> something you can do for me. It has to stay off the books, because it involves…well, he’s not really a no-maj, but he hasn’t been registered yet. Can I trust you?”</p><p>“Of course, sir.”</p><p>“I need you to get a message to someone who lives in that beat-up church on Pike Street. Those troll-brained Second Salemers, you know them?” She nods, hesitantly, and he tells her, “Go there. Disguise yourself, I know you know how, and pretend to be a no-maj detective to get inside. There’s a young man there by the name of Credence Barebone, I need you to tell him—” His voice breaks. “Tell him that I sent you. Tell him I’m coming back for him. Please.”</p><p>Goldstein’s face turns chalk-white. “Oh, Mercy Lewis…no one told you?”</p><p>Cold dread trickles down over Percival like a disillusion charm. His heart understands long before his mind; it briefly stops beating and then continues at an unnatural pace, spreading chips of ice through his veins. “Something happened to Credence,” he says, his voice flat and dull and absolutely empty.</p><p>She stands up and paces around the room for a good few seconds before she finally gets out, “Credence was the obscurial, sir. He was killed on the president’s orders.”</p><p>Percival would cry, if he had any feeling left. But he’s so numb now he doesn’t think he remembers how to cry, how to feel pain. All he feels, underneath the ice in his veins, is a sense of betrayal. And a new, aching, bone-deep hatred for Seraphina Picquery.</p><p>“Thank you for telling me,” he says, his voice still flat and unnaturally cold. “I think…I think I’d like to be alone now, if you wouldn’t mind.”</p><p>“Sir—”</p><p>“I don’t blame you,” he tells her, his voice still icy and alien. “I’m sure you did everything you could. But I need…I need to process this, Goldstein. I’m not angry with you. Just…please, leave me.”</p><p>“I’ll be back,” she promises softly, “whenever you need me.”</p><p>He acknowledges her with a nod and she goes. Once alone, he collapses back against his pillows and stares blankly at the ceiling.</p><p>His heart would break, he thinks, if it were whole to begin with.</p><p><em> I don’t have anything more to lose, </em> he thinks, a little deliriously, and then laughs because it’s true and it <em> hurts. </em> His best friend has become a political automaton. His lover is dead, killed by the same friend for whom he sacrificed his unborn child.</p><p>He wishes he could cry. Maybe it wouldn’t <em> hurt </em> like this if he could cry.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Seraphina Picquery has the good sense to stay away for a few days after Percival learns what happened to Credence, but like a bad penny, she eventually turns up.</p><p>He’s sitting in the chair by the window when she comes, staring out at the city that now holds no meaning for him. When she enters the room he pretends not to notice until she says without preamble, “I ought to have told you. I’m sorry. It never crossed my mind that you were intimately acquainted with the obscurial—”</p><p>“Credence,” he cuts her off coldly. “He has a name; you might show him some damn respect, seeing as <em> you killed him.” </em></p><p>“Now, Director, you know as well as I do that I had no choice—”</p><p>“I DON’T CARE!” </p><p>He stands up, his knees nearly buckling—he’s still weak and all those disgusting potions still make him sick, but the fire of his grief gives him the strength to stay upright as he turns to face her.</p><p>“I don’t care,” he tells her, voice shaking with anger he’s almost relieved to feel, “why you did what you did. I really could not give less of a damn, <em>Madam President.</em> Do you have any idea how much of my life you’ve destroyed? Do you have <em>any</em> <em>fucking idea</em> what I’ve lost?”</p><p>“Now, listen—”</p><p>
  <em> “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW IT FEELS WHEN AN INSANE DICTATOR KILLS YOUR UNBORN CHILD BECAUSE YOU WOULDN’T TELL HIM STATE SECRETS? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW IT FEELS TO MAKE THAT CHOICE AND HAVE TO LIVE WITH IT? BECAUSE I DO!” </em>
</p><p>His fury shakes the windows. He hasn’t lost control of his magic like this since he was a child, since before he got his Ilvermorny letter. He knows that she could have him killed for this. At this point, he thinks he may welcome it.</p><p>“Now imagine,” he growls, the ground around his feet cracking, “waking up after going through that, thinking you’re finally safe, thinking the worst is behind you, only to learn that the love of your life, the only Hades-damned thing you had left to live for, was fucking <em> MURDERED BY YOUR SUPPOSED BEST FRIEND. </em> Imagine that! And <em> then </em> look me in the eyes and try to tell me <em> YOU DIDN’T HAVE A FUCKING CHOICE!” </em></p><p>He stops there, breathing hard. The magic swelling inside him flounders to a dull roar. The windows stop shaking, the cracks at his feet close up. He’s tired. He is so, <em> so </em>tired. How, he wonders, is he supposed to go on, to keep living, to keep breathing, when every breath just wears him down even more?</p><p>Seraphina, meanwhile, is still in president-mode, and if it perturbs her at all that her second-in-command is staring at her with the fury of a thousand scorned veela, she doesn’t show it. “Director Graves,” she says calmly, “I am very sorry for your loss. And I do truly wish we could have spared the obsc—Credence—if only because he seems to mean so much to you. I should point out, however, that if he had lived he would have had to be kept under lock and key, and—”</p><p>“Seraphina,” he cuts her off, unable to stand the sound of her voice for another minute, “get out. Get out, and don’t come back.”</p><p>“Director Graves—”</p><p>“I quit,” he says icily. “I never want to see you again as long as I live. No, you know what? That isn’t enough. If the underworld is real, I hope I’m barred from it <em> just so I never have to see you again for eternity. </em> Leave. I mean it. As far as I’m concerned now, Seraphina, you don’t exist.”</p><p>“You’re obviously still recovering from the shock of being kidnapped. Let’s continue this conversation in a few days when you’re feeling better,” she says, and then mercifully, she leaves.</p><p>He should feel something, he thinks as she closes the door behind her, other than angry and dizzy and tired. He should feel sad, he thinks, but he doesn’t. He just feels relieved that he wasn’t in bed when she came. At least when he confronted her, he wasn’t lying down like an invalid.</p><p>Even though he knows the baby is gone, he reflexively presses his hand to his stomach. Maybe, he thinks, if there is an underworld, if his baby and Credence are with Hades now, they can still hear him. Maybe they’ve found each other…</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he whispers desperately. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you. I chose my duty and my country over your life, I didn’t do it on purpose but I made my choice nevertheless, and I’m sorry…if I could do it all over again I would. I’d give up MACUSA. I’d give my life if it would bring you both back. <em> I’m sorry.” </em></p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>It was honestly an accident, falling in love with Credence Barebone.</p><p>He first saw the boy handing out fliers for that stupid Second Salem church and thought, <em> oh, he’s a cute one, isn’t he. </em> Credence was sharp and cold and underfed, dressed in shabby clothes with a haircut that would’ve made Percival’s barber weep in despair. But his eyes were big and dark and absolutely hypnotic, with long flickering lashes that made him all the more unintentionally alluring. His mouth was a perfect double curve, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass, his hair like black silk. All he had to do was <em> look </em> and Percival wanted him.</p><p>Shame, then, about that whole Rappaport’s Law thing; he would have loved to take the young man home with him. But there was no shortage of attractive men in the world, he knew that, and he <em> should </em> have moved on.</p><p>Instead, he flirted. Openly and shamelessly. He took fliers from Credence and discarded them so he could take another, making it very obvious what he was up to. He complimented the young man’s lovely face until it stained permanently red. He fairly haunted the Second Salemer meetings and openly stared at his no-maj crush. It annoyed Mary Lou to no end, until he pulled a fistful of cash out of his pocket, handed it over and carelessly said, “For the cause. And there’ll be more where that came from, too, if you let me have an hour with your son. Just to talk, nothing more. I have an interest in...troubled youth, shall we say.”</p><p>He’d always liked showing off for potential lovers in this way, flashing money and feigning indifference until they looked his way—after all, what was the use in being one of the Twelve if you didn’t use your money and influence to get what you wanted? But this time was different. He liked the way that Second Salem boy was looking at him. He didn’t <em> have </em> to show off; his interest was clearly reciprocated. But he did anyway, because he wanted Credence to know he liked him. And judging by the look in the boy’s eyes, Credence <em> did </em> know.</p><p>An hour was all Percival asked for, and he’d planned to take Credence back to his apartment, see if that interest truly <em> was </em> reciprocated, and if it was have a little fun with the boy and let that be the end of it. But when he got a good look at him all he could think was that the poor thing was in obvious and desperate need of a hot meal and a sympathetic ear.</p><p>So Percival took Credence to a diner, and gently encouraged the boy to talk to him. And talk Credence did. In a few poignant sentences he sketched the trauma and tragedy of his childhood, and fiercely added that he would never let anything so terrible happen to his little sister, Modesty. He took beatings for her, did her chores on days she felt tired so that she wouldn’t be punished, often gave her his share of the watery, unappetizing meals his mother forced on them. He didn’t believe a word of the superstitious bunk that his mother touted, he just went along with it because he couldn’t stand up to her, not yet.</p><p>He was quiet and afraid and it showed. But he was <em> strong. </em> He’d been through so much, and yet he cared more about protecting his sister than saving himself. And oh, that was too much. Percival didn’t want to admit it, but by the end of that first precious hour, he was desperately in love with Credence Barebone.</p><p>“I want to see you again,” he told Credence. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”</p><p>“Meet me at midnight,” Credence told him carelessly. “Ma’s usually asleep by then, we’ll just have to stay close to the church while we do what you want.”</p><p>It became clear late that night just what Credence meant, when he obligingly started to kneel in the dirt before Percival had the chance to apparate them out of the alleyway. “I’m not asking you to prostitute yourself for me, Credence,” Percival protested as he tugged Credence back to his feet. “I don’t want favors from you.”</p><p>“What do you want, then?” Credence challenged him, fire in his dark eyes.</p><p>This was the moment. Percival could have, <em> should </em> have, let Credence do whatever he liked, get his lust for this beautiful young no-maj out of his system, then obliviated the kid and went on his merry way. He should never have said what he did next, because it painted a massive target on them both.</p><p>But the way Credence looked at him with such intensity made his knees turn to rubber, made his heart race in a way that it hadn’t since he was a junior auror, when he was young and stupid and arrogant and absolutely desperate to be touched. He’d let every senior auror who liked men have him every which way, just because he liked it and because it made him feel wanted. He’d stopped with that nonsense when he was promoted, and then stopped letting people touch him entirely when he became director. No time for sex when you had an entire country relying on you for safety. Besides, no one <em> wanted </em> him anymore; he was a symbol of power, not a target for lust.</p><p>But now he felt wanted again as he stood there and let Credence stare him down, and it made him feel wonderfully, achingly helpless to the whims of this sweet, lovely young thing who had no concept of just how sweet and lovely he really was. “I want you,” he said as if it were obvious. “You’re…different, sweetheart. You’re special.”</p><p>“No I’m not,” Credence said, obviously confused. “How can you say that? You don’t know me.”</p><p>“I know that you’ve been raised by a shrieking banshee who tried to make you hate everyone you don’t understand, but you still have compassion in your heart and you still want to protect those who can’t protect themselves,” Percival said, his hand drifting up to cup that perfect jaw. “I know that you’re so beautiful you’re making me dizzy just by standing here. And I know you don’t believe me when I say that, but I want you so badly I can just about taste it and I’m hoping that maybe if I let you have me a few times, let you see just what you do to me, you might start to believe me when I tell you how fucking <em> stunning </em> you are.”</p><p>There was more he wanted to say. But it was hard to get the words out when Credence’s lips were on his, stealing the breath from his lungs and making his heart pound so hard he thought it would burst from his chest like a firecracker. </p><p>“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Credence murmured when he pulled back, suddenly nervous again. “Did I do it right?”</p><p>Percival took one of Credence’s hands and pressed it over his racing heart. “You tell me,” he said, and Credence’s beautiful eyes lit up as he leaned in and happily stole another kiss.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It should hurt, dying. It should hurt a lot more than this. Especially if he’s being sent to the fires of hell, as he was always told he would be. He can’t feel his body, he can’t feel anything. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sees…something. A river, a boat, a dark cave guarded by a very large three-headed dog. The dog sniffs him once and then, eyeing him suspiciously, lets him through. He’s in a dark garden of some kind…it’s lush and beautiful but very dimly lit and very cool, almost cold. It feels…oddly pleasant. He ought to be frightened, perhaps, but he’s not. This is a lovely place, he doesn’t think he’d mind staying here even if it is hell. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A kind-faced and very pretty young woman in a soft blue gown who looks exactly like the fairy queens in the books he used to steal for Modesty sits beside a dark-haired, stern-faced man with silver eyes. God, he wonders? And the woman beside him, is she Mary, mother of Jesus, perhaps? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re not supposed to be here yet.” God sounds amused. Curious, even. He ought to be angry, Credence was always told God would be angry. “No, I’m not God, kid. And any sane being would be curious. You’re not dead, are you? But you’re not quite alive, either. Can you fix this, Persephone? I can’t send him back, but maybe you can.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The woman takes one look at him and nods her head. “Oh, yes, of course I can. He’s not dead, or he shouldn’t be. He’s badly hurt though, the poor thing! I’m so sorry this happened to you, Credence.” She turns to God and smiles brightly. “He thinks such sweet things about us! He thinks I look like a fairy queen. Isn’t that cute?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He wants to ask how the kind-voiced woman knows his name, but he can’t speak. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, you sweet little thing…we know everything about you. You don’t have to speak aloud, either, we can read your mind…well, your soul, strictly speaking. Just relax, dear. We’ll help you,” she assures him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How? he silently asks. How can you help? They killed me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We know, that’s how you wound up here. This is the underworld, little one. This is where you are supposed to go when you die,” the fairy queen explains gently. “But it isn’t your time yet…the Sisters saw it…you aren’t ready to come and be with us yet. I have to send you home.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And we need to be quick about it too,” the man adds grumpily. He reminds Credence of Percy, just the tiniest bit, and— </em>
</p><p><em> Oh no, Percy! Percy has been taken, something bad has been done to him—and Credence knows because he was killed by someone pretending to be his lover and oh, heavens above, Percy is </em> pregnant. <em> I have to get back, he thinks frantically, I have to get back, I have to find him— </em></p><p>
  <em> “Oh, no, Credence…it’s all right. Your lover is safe. He’s hurt, but he will be rescued from captivity, the Sisters have seen it. It’s not his time yet either.” There’s a pause, and then— “You have been through so much, and you have been so brave, you must know that. And when it is your time, we will welcome you here. But not yet. Your Percival needs you. The mortal world needs you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The dark garden blurs and fades, he thinks he hears her chanting, some kind of incantation perhaps, but then he hears and feels nothing else, and…and then… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Credence Barebone gasps as his eyes fly open. He’s on his knees, rain pouring over him in icy sheets, pain searing every inch of his skin. He is alone. Of course. He is always, <em> always </em> alone.</p><p>He tries to speak but only gasps, coughs, can’t get enough air into his burning lungs. His limbs are weak, it’s hard to stand but he does, he gasps for air and leans over on the nearest hard surface and picks up the first thing he can see—a wet, crumbling newspaper—just to see if he can make his fingers work. But the headline turns him cold, shocks him deep to the core. It’s honestly a wonder he doesn’t turn into the obscurus again.</p><p>
  <em> DIRECTOR GRAVES IMPERSONATED BY DARK WIZARD GELLERT GRINDELWALD. </em>
</p><p>That would be terrible enough, but he just sees the worst of it before the paper melts away and the ink runs across his fingers: <em>President Picquery c</em><em>onfirmed that Director Graves was repeatedly exposed to the cruciatus curse, which is known to prolong recovery time for trauma patients. Additionally, the director is rumored to have been pregnant, and suffered a miscarriage... </em></p><p>Credence has never screamed so hard the sound stopped coming out before now. He thought he was hurting a moment ago but it’s nothing, <em> nothing</em>—even <em> death </em> was nothing, it was a picnic compared to <em> this. </em></p><p>He moves. He doesn’t know how, but he moves. There is only one thought in his head, and it’s the most primal urge of his life—<em>find Percival Graves. </em> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For anyone who is also an absolute nerd for Greek mythology, <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/41/14/ad/4114ad564ae13c299f344262362820a3.jpg">this is how I'm picturing Hades and Persephone</a> for this 'verse. (I don't know the artist, I just came across that on pinterest and. yeah. #obsessed) I love, love, *love* the idea of the Underworld being the wizard afterlife, and Persephone was one of my first girl-crushes as a kid, so I can all but guarantee we'll see her again in this fic.</p><p> </p><p>Miscarriage/forced abortion TW spoilers: Right at the beginning, Graves mentally recounts the moment in which Grindelwald killed his unborn child by kicking him in the stomach. He later tells Picquery that Grindelwald did that because Graves wouldn't help him infiltrate MACUSA.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I'm a Ghost Keeping Out of Sight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*sigh* LET'S TRY THIS AGAIN</p><p>I tried to fix a typo I am now 99.99999% sure only I would have noticed and somehow deleted my update. Let's...not do that again. &gt;.&lt;</p><p>ANYWAY we're back! I now have some idea of where I want this story to go (an actual PLOT?!? LE GASP!) which is good because I'm not kidding when I say that my sole motivation for this whole thing was "I want to see Percival Graves get pregnant."</p><p>TWs for chapter:<br/>-General reminder that the plot revolves around recovery from a miscarriage<br/>-Anxiety attack<br/>-Multiple mentions of grief/mourning<br/>-Terrible, TERRIBLE mental health care (or lack thereof)<br/>-Attempted state-sanctioned execution</p><p>See end notes for spoilers :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The two weeks that he is supposed to be in the hospital turn into six. He suspects that this has less to do with his physical healing and more to do with the fact that he patently refuses to go back to work, pretends that he can’t see or hear the President when she tries to visit, and—this is the most frustrating part, for him at least—continues to experience hysterical pregnancy symptoms.</p><p>By the second week, he accepts that it will do no good to beg his team of healers to indulge his phantom cravings. Instead he refuses to eat until they have to resort to mixing nutrient-replacement potions with his other medications. He’s prescribed a course of antidepressant potions to fix his mood swings and refuses to take them, eventually forcing the healers to graft a tube into his arm with magic and force-feed him calming draughts, calling him “hysterical” and “shell-shocked.” He has no choice, he eventually realizes, but to give in.</p><p>He repeatedly asks for pens and pigeons so he can write letters, if they won’t let him have visitors, and is denied, told that outside communication is a security risk and he needs to get better if he wants to talk to anyone. Out of desperation he asks to see a Legilimency Healer, but is told he has to earn that privilege too. “Why not just tie me to the bed,” he mutters sulkily when he’s alone again. He doesn’t want to actually give them any ideas. He already has come to terms with the fact that he is essentially a political prisoner.</p><p>Eventually Goldstein is allowed to visit him. “I’m so sorry,” are her first words to him. “The president wouldn’t let me come back…security risk, she said…”</p><p>He sees that she’s brought her sister Queenie with her and just about laughs. He knows damn well why the “security risk” is suddenly not an issue. Since the stick isn’t working, it looks like Madam President has decided to try a carrot. And he also happens to know Queenie is a legilimens, so. He can connect the dots <em> there. </em></p><p>“No one knows that,” she says, and then claps a hand over her mouth. “Oops…”</p><p>“It’s okay. My ability to do occlumency is currently shot to the underworld anyway,” he assures her. “I’ve known a while. I don’t see why you hide it…well. Now I do, I guess. I don’t want to work for MACUSA anymore either.”</p><p>“I don’t blame you one bit, honey,” she says sympathetically. “We’re actually here to take you, um, to the President…” She winces when she sees his expression. “She wants you to come to the Woolworth Building. None of the aurors are getting anywhere with the Grindelwald interrogations…we’re supposed to talk you into coming back.”</p><p>“Of course.” He sighs and turns to Goldstein. “I need you to help me.” He pauses and then adds, “This is a personal favor, let’s be clear…I’m not the director of the DMLE anymore.”</p><p>“I know,” she says, looking uncomfortably away from him. “President Picquery named me intermittent director until you…get better.”</p><p>He stares. “You—well, I’ll be damned. She finally did something right. Not that it changes anything, but…” He shakes his head. “Congratulations, anyway. Now, Gol—Tina,” he corrects himself, and he sees how surprised she is; he’s never addressed her informally before. “Tina, I need you to do something for me.”</p><p>“Anything,” she says promptly.</p><p>“I want to see where—where it happened.” He knows she’s about to demur and gives her a pleading look. “I need to—to <em> see it</em>, I can’t—I need—”</p><p>He turns to Queenie, knowing she can hear him and hoping she’ll be able to translate. She doesn’t let him down. To Tina she gently explains, “He needs the closure. And he wants to…pay his respects, I suppose you’d call it.” When Tina cringes, Queenie firmly tells her, “Teeny, if you don’t I will. He needs to grieve.”</p><p>“He needs to not get arrested, and so do we,” Tina says dryly. “You know damn well Picquery won’t like it if we let him go off on his own.”</p><p>“Under the Proctor Act, I have rights,” he reminds them both. “Have I been named mentally incompetent by the state? Has <em> she </em> been named my guardian? Because if the answer to both of those questions is no, then I’m legally allowed to leave. Unless, of course, I’m being held as a political prisoner, in which case I <em> also </em> have the right to personal outings as long as I’m accompanied by an auror. Which, last I checked, you are.”</p><p>Tina nods slowly. “You’re not under arrest, because after the investigative team reviewed your case and saw that you told Picquery about—well, about how you lost the baby—they knew you refused to do what Grindelwald wanted and didn’t collude with him. And the hospital board of ethics won’t declare you incompetent because anyone with half a brain can see that’s not true.” She sighs as she looks around the cold, bleak hospital room. “I can’t imagine spending a month and a half here.”</p><p>Queenie nods her agreement, and Percival knows he’s won. “Please get me out of here,” he says quietly, and she wastes no time drawing him in close and taking him with her as she disapparates.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>The subway tunnel is not the temple he thought it would be. It is dark, and cool, and dirty. He feels no pulse of magic here, no feeling of closeness to the man he so deeply loved. There’s nothing. Just like the rest of his life now: nothing.</p><p>He reaches out to the wall, the closest solid surface to the spot where Tina told him it happened. He closes his eyes and pushes with his magic, tries desperately to feel something, anything. Remembers the sound of Credence’s tentative laughter, the softness of his pale skin, the warmth in his eyes, the little gasps of pleasure he’d let out as they made love. The thrill they both felt the first time Credence did magic and they realized that they <em> could </em> be together, they didn’t have to run away, they could have a life right here. The way Credence let out a sob of joy and held him so tenderly on that last beautiful morning together when Percival had told him <em> we’re going to have a baby… </em></p><p>Oh, <em> there </em> it is. It isn’t much, but there’s something. A tiny frisson of power, just enough to let him know that Credence has indeed been here. That he fought back, so hard, and tried so desperately to come home to him…</p><p><em> He died fighting, </em> Percival realizes, his heart breaking all over again as the warm feeling of his lover’s magic trickles into his skin for what he knows is the last time. <em> He died fighting, just like a Graves. </em> The hand that isn’t practically forcing itself through the wall goes to his stomach, as if there’s still a baby inside. <em> (But there’s not, he’s empty, he’ll always be empty—) </em></p><p>He waits, barely, until the Goldstein girls have left him alone (Queenie insists he needs some privacy) to collapse against the wall. The little hint of Credence’s power is gone, absorbed by his own magic. It is, he realizes with a gasp of pure agony, the last time Credence will ever be inside him. “I can’t,” he chokes out in a desperate whisper. “Credence...I don’t know how to go on without you, gods, where are you...”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry,” comes a gentle British voice, and Percival looks up, startled, as a kind-faced man in a bright-blue coat edges carefully towards him. “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry, I thought I felt magic…I thought…well, never mind.” He stops a few feet away, his head cocked to the side like a curious puppy. “You’re the real Director Graves, aren’t you,” he says, sounding genuinely surprised.</p><p>Percival hesitates, then nods. The man looks so familiar, and it doesn’t take him more than a minute to understand why. “You must be Theseus’ brother,” he says slowly as he drags himself upright.</p><p>“I am. My name is Newton Scamander, Mr. Graves. Pleased to meet you.” He steps forward and offers a handshake. “Theseus has spoken very highly of you.”</p><p>“He would. Theo and I go back a ways.” He manages a tired smile. “I apologize if I’m not exactly the man, myth, and legend that you were told to expect. You, uh…you’ve caught me at a bad time.”</p><p>“That’s perfectly all right.” The man’s cool green eyes sweep over him slowly, analyzing and appraising, before he says very softly and carefully, “I believe you and I may be here for the same reason, Mr. Graves.”</p><p>“Credence.” He tries not to wince in pain as he says his lover’s name. He fails. “I felt his magic here. It’s gone. <em> He’s </em> gone.”</p><p>Scamander nods slowly. “I was afraid of that.” He eyes Percival closely for a moment, and then says gently, “You were very close to him, weren’t you.”</p><p>“We were—we were very close, yes.” He wants to say <em> we were going to have a child together, </em> but can’t quite get the words out.</p><p>“I see.” Scamander eyes him closely for another few seconds before he finally says, “I understand if you reject this offer, but seeing as you’re a particular friend of my brother, I feel as if I should extend it to you anyhow. Would you perhaps like to come stay with me, while I tie up a few loose ends in America?”</p><p>Percival looks at him in shock for a moment. He recalls Theseus’ description of his brother as “a little odd.” He now knows that’s hardly the half of it. “I couldn’t ask that of you.”</p><p>“You aren’t asking, Mr. Graves, I’m offering. Besides, I think my brother would just about die if he knew I saw you in such distress and failed to at least try to provide you some comfort.”</p><p>He could lie and say he’s all right. He ought to lie. He ought to go back, and let himself be taken again by Seraphina, and put back in the hospital like the mental case he knows he is. He ought to let her beat him into submission, because that’s the best he can hope for, isn’t it? Spending the rest of his existence in a drugged haze, so he doesn’t have to face the pain of life without his beautiful boy?</p><p>“Please,” is what comes out instead. Because there’s still that tiny, shining little tendril of Credence’s magic in his palm, right beside his heart line, and oh, he so does not want to be <em> gone </em>yet. He wants so badly to believe that there’s something out there that he can hold onto.</p><p>“Let’s go, then,” the younger Scamander says as he pulls Percival in close and wraps an arm around him for side-along apparition, and with a <em> crack </em> they spin into the unknown together.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Percival initially thought they were staying with the Goldsteins, until Newt took him into the guest bedroom of the girls’ apartment, flicked open his case, and tugged him inside. Now, Percival has certainly heard of “living out of a suitcase” before, but apparently his new host takes it to a real extreme.</p><p>“Mercy Lewis, Scamander,” he breathes, taking in the sight of the colorful menagerie spread out as far as his eyes can see. “How…<em> why…” </em></p><p>“I’m a magizoologist,” the British man explains calmly as he shucks his coat and scoops up a metal bucket. “These are my creatures. And you really must call me Newt, if you’re going to be staying with me.”</p><p>“Newt,” Percival corrects himself as he staggers along behind his new host. He gapes in shock when Newt stops by a deep-green lake and fishes something from his bucket. “It’s…it’s impressive, but…some of these are…”</p><p>“Dangerous? Only in the wrong hands, Mr. Graves.” Newt tosses handfuls of what must be feed from the bucket into the lake, and Percival just about faints when a kelpie leaps from the water to scarf down the food.</p><p>“If I’m going to call you Newt,” he manages, “you might as well use my first name too.” He gestures feebly to the kelpie. “I, uh. I’ve never seen one of those before. Not in person, anyway.”</p><p>“Oh, you should try swimming with him,” Newt says with a roll of his eyes. “Right unruly thing, he is.”</p><p>“You <em> get in the water </em>with that thing?”</p><p>“Well, how else am I supposed to treat him when he injures himself, the clumsy little beast?” Newt says, as if there’s nothing odd about that at all.</p><p>Percival follows Newt around the room, watching in breathless awe as the man handles everything from the tiny mooncalves to a massive Nundu with total ease. Newt is firm with the creatures but achingly kind, and more than once Percival feels a sting of pain. He thinks longingly of Credence, and how gentle Newt would have been with him, how he would have known just what to do to help. </p><p>But it is <em> nice </em> down in the case, he must admit that. One would think that what essentially amounts to a magical traveling zoo would stink, that it would be loud and uncomfortable, but...it’s <em> peaceful </em> down here, surrounded by the clean, earthy scent and the almost familial warmth of the animals.</p><p>He spots an open curtain by the mooncalf field and, drawn by curiosity, he heads over to see what it is. His heart drops: there inside a wintery habitat is a swirling black mass encased in a clear bubble. It just…floats there. Harmless. Quiet. But he can feel pain and fear radiating off that little bubble and he’s never seen one before but he just knows this is an—</p><p>“An extracted obscurus,” Newt explains, gently turning him away. “Separated from its host.”</p><p>Percival’s heart climbs into his throat. His eyes sting. He swallows hard and barely manages to croak out, not sure if he even wants the answer, “Is it—”</p><p>“It’s not Credence’s obscurus, and even if it was, I couldn’t use it to bring him back,” Newt says regretfully. “I’m so sorry, Percival. I didn’t know…”</p><p>“No one knew. We thought it had to be that way, until…” Percival can’t bring himself to say it. He looks down and finds, to his horror, that his hand has drifted protectively to his belly again. <em>There’s nothing left there to protect!</em> he mentally screams at himself. <em>What are you doing! You’re barren, you’re empty,</em> <em>why don’t you understand—</em></p><p>He feels his legs give out as the room tilts around him, and it’s only when he feels something solid underneath him that he realizes Newt has helped him into a chair. He’s hyperventilating, he can’t get enough air into his lungs, he tries to say “I’m sorry,” but it comes out as a broken, whining gasp.</p><p>“Sh-h-h.” Newt continues to stroke his back, the pattern steady and rhythmic; it would feel so good under any other circumstances but right now all Percival can comprehend is raw pain. “I know,” Newt murmurs. “I know it hurts. Try to breathe—there, now, that’s it, that’s a little better.”</p><p>It takes a while, but eventually Percival is able to force the syncopated pattern of his breathing into something more natural. When he comes back to himself again he realizes his face is wet, that he has been crying, and he should be embarrassed, but instead he is disappointed: this is the first time he has been able to cry, and it happens when he’s too out of it to feel any catharsis from the tears.</p><p>“Are you back with me now?” Newt looks at him closely, and Percival might feel embarrassed now, but he’s too damn exhausted.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he assures Newt. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”</p><p>“It’s to be expected, I should think.” Newt helps him to his feet. “I’m going to take you somewhere you can rest. The girls have a guest room upstairs, and—”</p><p>“Wait,” Percival cuts him off, clinging to Newt for support; his legs feel like water and he’s honestly not sure he could make it back up that ladder. “Can’t I—I mean, is it—is it <em> safe, </em> if I were to—”</p><p>“Stay here?” Newt finishes for him, a look of surprise crossing his face. “Well, I suppose so, yes. I didn’t think you’d want to, though.”</p><p>“I do. That is, if you—if you don’t mind.” Percival couldn’t explain why if asked. He just knows that he feels as safe in the little suitcase sanctuary as the rest of the creatures that Newt has collected. He realizes he’s still clinging to Newt like a child and quickly takes a step back. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually…like this.”</p><p>“You’ve experienced great shock and loss, and I doubt you’ve been given proper care or any real support,” Newt says in that same calm, matter-of-fact voice in which he revealed he swims with a kelpie on the regular. He takes Percival by the arm and leads him to a small, cozy room beside the occamies’ nest. “Now, if you’d like to sleep in the case, I think you should stay here with Dougal.”</p><p>“Dougal?”</p><p>“My demiguise. Here…” Newt reaches up to the seemingly empty perch above the occamy habitat and closes his arms around…something. “Go in there and sit down on the cot,” he orders, and waits for Percival to do so before he reaches out and puts whatever he’s holding on Percival’s lap.</p><p>“Oh,” Percival breathes in surprise as his arms close around something warm and fizzy and indescribably soft. A moment later, a pair of big golden eyes blink into existence and he finds himself looking at a little monkey-like silver creature with long, silky fur. “Hello there,” he murmurs. The creature’s eyes flash blue, and it very gently pats his arm before nestling its soft head into his chest.</p><p>Newt smiles at the pair of them. “He likes you, that’s good. Demiguises are quite protective. He’ll look after you while you sleep, if you like.”</p><p>“I think I would like that, yes.” Percival hasn’t had a pet or a familiar since he was at Ilvermorny. It’s foreign and comforting at the same time, having a soft, cuddly creature in his arms.</p><p>“Good, that’s good…now, let’s go upstairs and see the girls. I’ll bet they’ve got a nice dinner waiting for us. Have you ever tasted Queenie’s cooking?”</p><p>“I’ve not had much of an appetite lately,” Percival admits.</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry.” Newt indicates for Percival to follow him to the ladder. “I’m sure a few meals with the Goldsteins will fix that.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Percival’s favorite spot in Newt’s case is the tree filled with the strange little butterfly-bugs, right under the soft ball of light meant to simulate sunlight. He’ll sit with his back against the trunk for hours, if he can get away with it. It’s peaceful and it feels safe here, easy to forget the worst of what he’s been through.</p><p>He thought he would feel better once he got away from the hospital, but now he knows better; he has nightmares every night and while the other hysterical pregnancy symptoms have gone, he can’t quite shake the habit of reaching for his stomach to protect his lost child in moments of stress or sadness. He knows he needs a Legilimency Healer, and maybe a long-term script for a calming draught. But if he seeks out a healer now he’ll end up right back in the closed ward, and Seraphina Picquery will have unfettered access to him…and he’d rather scream himself to death than ever see her again.</p><p>Queenie finds him under his favorite tree one afternoon and, without a word, curls up against his side, resting her head on his shoulder as if she’s his best friend, his sister, as if she has every right to casually touch him. He doesn’t even consider rebuffing her, just lets himself enjoy the weight of her head on his shoulder, the sensation of her small hands curled around his bicep. The physical contact is soothing in itself, but the best part that he doesn’t have to ask for it, that she just <em> knows </em> he will accept her touch… <em> I don’t have to say anything, </em> he realizes with a dizzying rush of relief. <em> I can just let her read me, I don’t have to try to put it into words… </em></p><p>She nods against his shoulder. “I might not know what to say,” she murmurs into his shirt, “but I’m here if you just need someone to talk to.”</p><p>Honestly, Percival can’t quite decide which of them has it worse. Credence is dead, yes, and he’d give anything for that to not be the case, but there’s at least a morbidly comforting kind of finality to that. Queenie, on the other hand, must live with the knowledge that the man she loves is out there, alive and happy and safe <em> only </em> as long as he has no knowledge of her existence.</p><p>Queenie is quiet for a long moment, before she tightens her grip on his arm, presses her face into his shoulder, and tells him softly, “I keep going over that day in my head, you know? Thinking there was something I could’ve done. If I hadn’t listened when he asked me to take him with us. If I’d stuck him up there in our apartment until it was all over. Then the president wouldn’t have seen him and we could’ve said he was a squib or something, you know?”</p><p>“I know.” Percival shifts a little and pulls his arm out of Queenie’s grip, only so he can pull her in to his side and hold her close. Having someone or something to hold, he’s found, helps temper that painful instinct to press a hand over his belly, to protect a baby that isn’t there…of course now he’s thinking about it, <em> so stupid</em>, if he could just <em> stop </em> thinking about it for a while maybe he’d get over it.</p><p>“No you wouldn’t,” Queenie says suddenly. “Don’t try to lie to yourself, Percival. I told Newt this once and I’ll tell you now…people are easier to read when they’re hurting.”</p><p>He lets out a bitter little laugh. “I guess that explains why I’m an open book to you now, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“It does,” she says gently, and her arm slings itself around his waist, just above where his stomach <em> would </em> be swelling now if…if he had just… “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says when she realizes, and starts to pull away.</p><p>He quickly stops her. “No, keep your arm there, please. The pressure…helps.”</p><p>She nods and relaxes against him again. “I can’t even imagine,” she says softly. </p><p>“It’s certainly not a feeling I’d ever want you, or anyone I care about for that matter, to become intimately acquainted with,” he tells her with a grim smile. <em> Though to be fair, most people who miscarry don’t have the dual experience of hearing that their partner was killed by their ex-best friend on the same day. </em></p><p>“I still can’t believe the president did that,” Queenie sighs. “If the aurors had held fire, he could’ve been talked down. Teeny almost had him there, did I tell you? She tried so hard to help him…she said he just wanted to stop hurting.”</p><p>Percival closes his eyes and lets his head thunk back against the tree trunk again. “I never knew he was an obscurial, you know. I thought he was a no-maj at first. The day I found out I was pregnant was the same day I saw him do magic for the first time…next time I saw him, I told him we were going to have a baby and oh, Queenie, you should’ve seen his face, he was so happy. Do you think…” His throat closes, his mouth is so dry he has to swallow three times before he can get the words out. “Do you think…they’ve found each other? In the underworld, I mean…Credence and the baby…”</p><p>“I don’t know.” Queenie’s arm tightens around his waist. “But I do know that Persephone wouldn’t turn anyone away.”</p><p>It’s true. According to legend Persephone and Hades must take in all souls, good and bad. Percival wants, more than anything, to believe it. “I want them to have found each other. I want them to have peace. Credence deserves that.”</p><p>“So do you, honey.” She squeezes him again, and he lets his head drop to the side, so that his cheek is pressed to the top of her head. “I’m here,” she promises him. “I know I can’t replace them, but I’m here as long as you need me, okay? I’m not much, I know, but—”</p><p>“No,” he cuts her off. “You’re perfect.” He relaxes into her touch, finally, letting himself go slack with the tree behind him for support. “I might fall asleep if we stay like this,” he warns her.</p><p>“That’s fine You need the rest.”</p><p>“I’ll probably wake up screaming.”</p><p>“That’s what I’m here for, honey.” She gives him a gentle squeeze. “Just relax. I’ll wake you if you get upset.”</p><p>He wants to trust her. Wants to believe her. So, for now, he does.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>When Credence sees Percy again, every cell in his body cries out praises to the heavens simultaneously. He’s dreamed for actual <em> weeks </em> now of seeing those kind eyes, and now…oh, <em> there </em> they are. That little flash of anger when he sees that Credence is hurt again…the tiny furrow in his brow as he concentrates on the healing spell…the way his eyelids flutter when he sees that Credence is leaning in to kiss him…it’s all so familiar, and Credence’s heart is absolutely singing, every single part of him screaming <em> go, go to him, go to him NOW. </em></p><p>He reaches out to Percy, can <em> hear him </em> saying his name— <em> Come along, Credence my love, I have a surprise for you </em>—and Credence already knows the surprise: Percy is going to show him the tiny bump that has formed on his belly and tell him they’re going to have a baby.</p><p>“You want to go in there, don’t you,” a distant, soft voice coaxes, and Credence finds himself nodding. Of course he wants to go, that’s where <em> Percy </em> is, why doesn’t anyone understand? Even that ice-cold witch in the sparkling headdress who told him he had to die understood he just wanted Percy—<em>wait. </em></p><p>The image in the pool changes. Percy isn’t standing before him now, it’s Mr. Graves. Cold, uncaring, false Mr. Graves, who was willing to let him die if it meant that he could get his hands on Credence’s obscurus. <em> Do this and you will be honored among wizards. </em>Wait, no, something is wrong... <em>This isn’t Percy, </em> Credence thinks as he watches the memory of Mr. Graves pleading with the obscurus to join him. Percy never looked at him like that. Percy always looked at him with awe, but never like he was a weapon. This man is an imposter and Credence never should’ve let himself be fooled. Especially since if he’d known all along, he could’ve probably saved the real Percy by now.</p><p>The anger and raw, true <em> love </em> he feels for Percy, the <em>real</em> Percy, breaks him out of his trance. He realizes he’s sitting in a metal chair, hovering over a pool of spiky black potion that, if he does not move, will swallow him up and dissolve his body. Maybe his obscurus can protect him, like it did in the subway, but Credence takes less than a tenth of a second to decide he does not want to stick around and find out.</p><p>The two witches in white coats watch open-mouthed as he stands in the chair, lets his eyes go white, and warns them, “Now would be a really great time for both of you to <em> get out of my way.” </em></p><p>The cold-faced witch in the gold headdress stands by the door, watching in shock and (he hopes) fear as the very willing obscurus unfurls itself, lifts him from the chair and carries him across the pool without touching a drop of the death potion. He’s set back on solid ground and the two white-coated witches all but trip over themselves trying to get out of his way. Credence would really be enjoying this, he thinks, if the situation wasn’t so serious; when was the last time someone actively scrambled to get out of his way instead of just pushing him aside?</p><p>As he stands and faces his final opponent, the pretty but cruel woman who so casually informed him he was to die, it all comes flooding back. He snuck in and confronted her in her office. <em> I know you have Percy, </em> he said to her, <em> I know he’s been hurt and I know he must be scared. I just want to see him, I just need to know he’s all right, please; I don’t want to hurt anyone, I just want Percy. </em></p><p>She said she was taking him to Percy. Instead she brought him here and, once he realized what was going on, he tried to flee only for her to have these two other witches hold him captive. <em> I’m sorry, but you killed no-majs, publicly. That’s a death sentence, Mr. Barebone, no matter how sympathetic your circumstances may have been. </em></p><p>He lets his obscurus unfurl, lets the white haze cover his eyes. “Let’s try this again,” he says, letting the raw power of the obscurus deepen the timbre of his voice. “You know where Percival Graves is. I know you do. And you know now that you can’t hold me here against my will. So I’ll make myself clear: Tell me where he is, and I’ll leave MACUSA alone. You’ll never see me again.”</p><p>“You’re not making things easier for yourself, Mr. Barebone,” she says, her voice perfectly cool and steady. “Mr. Graves wouldn’t want you to hurt me. We’re friends. If he could see you now—”</p><p>“You just tried to kill me, <em> again</em>,” Credence cuts her off. “Do you really think he’ll be on your side here? I mean seriously, you’ve tried to murder the father of his child twice now.”</p><p>“You can’t really think he was going to keep that baby,” the president tells him, giving him a look of forced pity. “He’s already aborted it, you know. It was the first thing he asked for when he woke up…he told us it was Grindelwald’s child, though…such a shame…”</p><p>There was a time Credence would have believed her. But if there’s one advantage of the time spent with the false Mr. Graves, it’s that he’s learned to spot a blatant attempt at manipulation when he sees it. “You’re lying. He was happy when he found out we were having a baby. Now for the last time—no, you know what? Forget it. You obviously don’t care about him. I’ll just have to find him myself.”</p><p>The obscurus burns inside him, it wants to kill her—and maybe, he thinks, after she tried to kill him twice it would only be fair—but he doesn’t really want to. Unlike some people, Credence thinks grimly, he doesn’t hand out arbitrary death sentences, and since his little rampages last year he’s learned how to tamp down the obscurus’ protective nature so that he doesn’t accidentally kill anyone again. It’s exhausting as anything and if he does it for long enough it makes him physically ache, but he <em>can</em> do it and he does, even if it sometimes takes all his strength.</p><p>He settles instead for allowing the obscurus to knock her over as he blasts through the door of the death chamber with such force that he leaves an automobile-sized hole in the wall.</p><p>
  <em> I’m coming, Percy. Hang in there. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Anxiety/panic attack TW spoilers: When Percival sees Newt's extracted obscurus for the first time, it reminds him of Credence. He feels unsteady, then realizes he's touching his stomach as if the baby is still in there and it's the last straw that sends him into a full-on crying/hyperventilating/shaking panic attack. It's a brief description, and implied that it only takes a few minutes for the attack to pass.</p><p>-Grief TW spoilers: There are multiple allusions to the loss of Percival's lover and his baby. He is allowed to see the subway tunnel where Credence died, feels a piece of his magic there, and breaks down as he realizes that Credence is truly gone. Later, he reluctantly discusses the events with Queenie, and mentally compares her seeing Jacob lose his memories of her, to his own tragic losses.</p><p>-Terrible mental healthcare TW spoilers: When Percival pushes back on antidepressant potions that make him feel unnaturally and unpleasantly happy, his healers instead force calming potions on him through an IV because they think he doesn't know his own mind. He repeatedly asks to speak to a therapist and is denied. He is also isolated from most of his friends during this time. It is implied heavily that all of this is happening as a punishment, rather than an effort to help him heal.</p><p>-Attempted execution TW spoilers: Credence attempts to find Percival by confronting President Picquery. It goes about as well as one would expect. She tries to execute him for the crimes his obscurus committed and he fights back. He reflects that even though the obscurus wants to kill her in revenge, he doesn't want to be a killer and instead basically just scares the crap out of her. The whole scene is made even more disturbing by the fact that he went to her in genuine good faith, and she attempts to execute him off the books just like Grindelwald did to Tina and Newt.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Every Voice in my Head</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AAAAND WE'RE BACK.</p><p>I'm not even sure where we're at with TWs for this chapter guys, for real. I'm too nervous about the ACTUAL SEX SCENE (WHAT???) that I managed to sneak in here.</p><p>General reminder TWs: grief/mourning, mentions of miscarriage, implied PTSD, Wizards Are Useless and no one gets Percival to a therapist for who knows what reasons.</p><p>Specific TWs:<br/>-Fight scene near the end (brief, mentions of blood and Unforgivable Curses but no character death, though Percival does briefly wonder if any of the bad guy's Red Shirts are dead).<br/>-Mentions of gun violence as they're tracking a wizard who's trying to invent a machine gun that never runs out of ammo, but no actual gun violence happens.<br/>-Allusions to Credence's abusive home life<br/>-Mentions of depression (Credence describes having depressive episodes; he doesn't have the word for it but it's essentially executive dysfunction)<br/>-Rough sex involving: overstimulation, VERY VERY VERY MILD implied bloodplay, mentioned strength kink, biting, hair-pulling, and just the general implication that at least one of these characters gets off on pain. One character comes so hard he...idk if dissociates would be the right word, but he literally gets off so hard he blanks out. It's described in detail. (I should mention here though, NO NON CON. NONE AT ALL. NO DUB CON EITHER. there is legitimate consent and all parties find the aforementioned activities VERY enjoyable.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Of course it doesn’t last. Of course it doesn’t take two weeks for the president to figure out that the Goldsteins had something to do with Percival disappearing, and she starts to lay the heat on Tina.</p><p>They’ve got to go. Newt isn’t supposed to be here in the first place; he was ordered to leave America weeks ago, and while there is no arrest warrant out, no manhunt ordered, for Percival Graves, none of them are naive enough to think that she won’t say he’s wanted for questioning or imply he worked willingly with Grindelwald if she has to.</p><p>So Newt immediately makes plans for Percival to accompany him to England. The night before they leave, Percival catches Queenie sneaking out to meet Jacob. She freezes like a deer in the headlights when she sees him standing by the door for a moment, clearly thinking he’s about to scold her, tell her to stay.</p><p><em> Go to him, </em> he thinks instead. <em> It’s a risk and I won’t pretend otherwise, but go anyway. Whatever’s between you two, if it can survive obliviation and a major battle and whatever the hell else happened that night…it’s real. I can’t pretend I’d do any differently in your shoes. You think I don’t know what they would have done to Credence and I if we’d been caught? And do you really think I wouldn’t sell my soul for one more day, one more </em> hour <em> with him? </em></p><p>Her eyes swim with tears. “Oh, honey—”</p><p>“Go,” he orders her aloud, his voice rough with his own unshed tears. “Go and be with him. I don’t think I have to tell you to be careful, do I? No? Good. Now go see him. I saw nothing, you understand?”</p><p>She nods and runs out the door. He’s probably made a terrible mistake, but Percival can’t bring himself to care. If he can’t have his own happy ending, then damn it, Queenie should get hers.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>The ship they take to England is nice, not luxurious but definitely comfortable, and Percival initially feels safer once they’ve boarded. It really is beautiful out on the open water, he thinks as he stares out over the horizon. Then he remembers the <em> Titanic </em> and shudders.</p><p>Newt sits on the bench beside him and lays a gentle hand in the small of his back. “There’s nothing to be afraid of out here, Percival. No one is coming for you.”</p><p>“I know that.” He looks out at the open water again. “I was thinking—you know, what would happen if the ship sank.”</p><p>“We’re wizards,” Newt reminds him. “There are ways we could survive. A bubble charm around my case would do the trick quite nicely, I think.”</p><p>Percival laughs, a little bitterly, at the thought of what that would entail. “I’d want to save everybody on the ship.”</p><p>“Well, of course. You were an auror, I suppose it’s in your nature.” Newt hesitates a moment before asking, very gently, “Is that how it was with you and Credence? You wanted to save him?” Percival tenses in his seat and Newt quickly adds, “It’s all right, you know. Tina had the same thought when she first saw him.”</p><p>“I think he saved me as much as I saved him,” Percival admits sadly. “He is…he <em> was… </em>so good. I know you only ever saw him when he was blindly attacking the city, but I swear he wasn’t always like that. Falling for him was…well, it was a little like jumping off a ledge. I had a chance to end it, erase his memories of me and lie to myself about how I felt. But when the time came, I couldn’t deny him the chance to know how it felt to be in love with someone who loves you back.”</p><p>He stands, goes to the railing and holds on tightly as he looks out over the ocean. Newt follows but doesn’t press for any more information, one hand resting gently in the small of Percival’s back. He’s not a touchy-feely kind of man, Newt, but he knows that innocent physical touch is reassuring to Percival and he indulges him whenever he can.</p><p>He doesn’t ask the question Percival expects. He doesn’t have to. When he was younger and dumber Percival would happily go home with anyone, but there’s no doubt in his mind, and there never will be, that Credence Barebone was his first and only true romantic love.</p><p>Eventually Newt breaks the silence. “You know…you really are a good man, Percival. Whether you feel like it right now or not.”</p><p>“Careful,” Percival warns him, just managing a smile. “If you tell me that often enough, I might start to believe you.”</p><p>“Then I’ll tell you every day,” Newt says firmly. “As will Tina and Queenie. I know we can’t replace Credence, but we care for you and we’ll be here for you.”</p><p>“I know.” He looks down and finds that, once again, his hand is protectively cupping his stomach. He wants to stop, he does, but right now he just can’t bring himself to let go. “I want that to be enough, I really do…I’m trying…”</p><p>“You needn’t be so hard on yourself. One doesn’t expect an abused creature to trust its healer on the first day,” Newt tells him. “You need time, and we’re going to get you as much of that as it takes.”</p><p>“I know. Thank you for…everything.” Percival sighs and leans his head against Newt’s shoulder, trying desperately to let his friend’s love fill the empty spaces inside of him and knowing, deeply and painfully, that it’s not enough, it <em> can’t </em> be enough no matter how much he wants it to be.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Credence kissed him first, and with that, Percival was done for.</p><p>It had been a long time since he’d let anyone have him. The first time someone made an attempt on Seraphina’s life, five days into her first term, nothing else mattered to him other than protecting her…nothing, until he fell so hard for Credence Barebone he was helpless to do anything but offer himself up.</p><p>“I’m all yours,” he told Credence after their first kiss. “It’s been far too long since I’ve done this and I don’t really know what I’m doing anymore, but I know for sure that I’ll do anything for you.” And Credence took him at his word.</p><p>“Don’t touch me,” he ordered roughly, taking both Percival’s wrists and pinning them over his head as he steadily thrust in and out. “Keep your hands right here.”</p><p>Of course Percival obeyed. He was utterly weak for Credence already, and when Credence fucked him like this there was no way he could deny his boy anything. He sucked in a sharp gasp as Credence thrust into him, nails digging into the tender skin of his wrists. The pain fueled the pleasure, sending little tingles of excitement down his spine every time the short, ragged nails clawed at his skin. “You’re…going to…<em>ahhh</em>…will you make me bleed, sweetheart?” he breathed.</p><p>“I will, and you’ll like it,” Credence promised, and took one wrist to his mouth, teeth sinking deep into the skin.</p><p>“Oh <em>fuck!”</em> He arched up so sharply that Credence nearly slipped out of him.</p><p>Credence actually scowled. “Oh, that’s it,” he said decisively, and before Percival could blink he was flipped over onto his stomach, legs roughly spread out and an unyielding hand pressed hard into the small of his back. “I was going easy on you,” Credence said in a low, ominous voice that made Percival shiver. “But now? Yeah. Now you’re going to <em> get it.” </em></p><p>He thrust back in with no warning and Percival made a noise somewhere between a moan and a shriek as he felt Credence’s thick cock hit his prostate on the first stroke. Credence moved his hand up, so that he was pressing down between Percival’s shoulder blades, clamped his other hand down on Percival’s hip hard enough to bruise, and proceeded to thrust in and out with abandon.</p><p>Percival was in heaven. Credence filled him <em> just right, </em> stretching him out and pushing deep into him at the perfect angle to make his body hum with pleasure. It was dangerous, letting a man so young and insatiable and surprisingly strong have so much power over him…but he <em> needed </em> it. When they were together, all he had to worry about was pleasing Credence and taking whatever Credence wanted to give him in return. MACUSA, Grindelwald’s rampages, Seraphina’s recent disturbing habit of taking out her stress and anxiety on him—all of it faded away, and the only thing that mattered anymore was this beautiful, love-starved boy who made him feel like magic personified.</p><p>“Harder, sweetheart,” he pleaded quietly, and Credence obligingly picked up the pace, one hand moving to his hair and pulling hard so that his head jerked back. Percival heard Credence’s little grunts and gasps as he got closer to orgasm, and it fueled his own arousal. He could feel it now, the slow-burning swell of pleasure inside him…if he could just get Credence to go a <em> little </em> faster, a <em> little </em> harder… “I need—please, I—Credence—” he tried, but couldn’t get the words out.</p><p>Credence yanked his hair again and it sent a shockwave through him. “You need to shut up and let me work, Mr. Graves.” He punctuated this statement by leaning down and biting Percvial’s shoulder hard enough to make him bleed. “Come for me,” he murmured against Percival’s broken skin.</p><p>“I need it harder love, <em> please,” </em> Pecival begged him. “I know you can <em> aaagh…” </em></p><p>Credence was leaning over him now, holding him down with both hands and leaning his full weight onto Percival, plunging in at an angle that magnified the impact of his thrusts. Percival felt the scrape of Credence’s teeth against his skin again and that was it—he came <em> hard, </em> vision whiting out and an inhuman noise ripping out of his throat, pulsing with waves of pleasure so intense it all verged on pain—but Credence <em> didn’t stop, </em> he was still going at the same brutal pace, cock still hitting Percival right where it counted on every stroke.</p><p>And it hurt—but it felt <em> good</em>, too, and Percival couldn’t quite get his head around which sensation was stronger. If he could remember how to speak he might tell Credence to stop, but he couldn’t get any words out, couldn’t even form them in his mind, all he knew was a raging, white-hot mix of dazzling pain and overwhelming pleasure, and it <em> hurt </em> and it felt <em> amazing </em> and he couldn’t separate the two, couldn’t hear anything over the pound of his own heart, and—</p><p>And he let go. Let himself float away, the way he did when anything else got to be <em> too much. </em> But this was infinitely different from when he shut down as a last resort during painful medical treatment or enemy torture. There was something intoxicating about letting his higher-functioning self switch off in the presence of someone who made him feel so good…he <em> should </em> have been afraid, perhaps, but he <em> wasn’t, </em> because it was Credence and honestly, Percival couldn’t help but think even death would feel amazing as long as it came at Credence’s hands.</p><p>Even through the haze he could still, however faintly, feel the warm rush of fluid inside him that meant Credence had found his pleasure. He felt himself being turned over, felt Credence’s lovely mouth on him, licking up the traces of his come that hadn’t yet soaked into the sheets…oh, he liked that, really liked it…he felt Credence’s soft, wet lips on his, and he could taste himself there. That was <em> hot. </em> He wanted to say so but he was so tired…</p><p>A slim arm found its way under his neck. He tried to open his eyes, tried to thank his sweetheart for treating him so well. <em> I love you, </em> he tried to say, but it came out as a weak moan; if he’d had the presence of mind he might’ve been embarrassed. His head fell against Credence’s chest, he felt the world tilting underneath him again…and then, maybe a minute or maybe an hour later, heard a soft voice coaxing him back to earth. “Come back to me, Mr. Graves, please.”</p><p>His eyelids felt like lead, but with a tremendous effort he managed to raise them. “I…I’m here with you, love.” It took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t just his vision, the room was so dark he could barely make out Credence’s face. “What happened to the lights?”</p><p>“Um. When you…climaxed…they kind of all went…” Credence made a hand gesture and a little noise that indicated an explosion.</p><p>“Oh. Damn.” Percival winced a little as the realization of what had happened slowly formed in his sex-drunk mind. This, he knew, was going to take a bit of explanation. “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said it was a coincidence.”</p><p>“No, not really,” Credence admitted, but a tiny smile was forming at the corners of his lips. “I guess I know why you didn’t tell me, though.”</p><p>“Tell you what?”</p><p>“You’re a witch, aren’t you.” Credence said it so matter-of-factly, in the same tone he might’ve said <em> it makes you horny when I bite you </em> or <em> my mother is batshit crazy. </em> Like it was something that any idiot could have guessed.</p><p>“Wizard,” Percival reluctantly corrected him. Now that the haze of lust was clearing from his mind he was aware that, first of all, he was very sore <em> (good job, Credence), </em> and second, this conversation should make him very nervous.</p><p>“I’m supposed to tell my ma. She’d burn you up like they did to those witches in Salem,” Credence said, again as if this were a conclusion to which anyone would naturally come.</p><p>Oh, lovely. Percival winced as he tried, unsuccessfully, to sit up; he did not want to have this conversation lying in Credence’s arms like a swooning maiden. He doubted Credence would actually kill him, but… “Listen, I know you’re probably afraid, but you need to know…first of all, what your mother has taught you is absolutely false, we don’t eat children or sell our souls to Satan…we don’t even believe in Satan, honestly, we mostly just want to be left alo—”</p><p>“Mr. Graves, if you were going to eat me or steal my soul, you would have done it by now,” Credence cut him off again. He paused, and then added in a tone much less matter-of-fact, “Besides, you…you said you love me. You…” His voice trembled, as if he might cry. “You say that every time we…have relations.”</p><p>Percival ought to have felt relief, but his primary feeling was that of exasperation: only Credence would say things like <em> have relations </em> and call him <em> Mr. Graves </em> after a round of wild sex. “Credence, love, you literally just fucked me senseless. I think it’s all right if you call me by my first name now.”</p><p>“Did you mean it?” Credence asked him, not to be distracted.</p><p>“Sweetheart, I always mean it.”</p><p>He was too tired to be any more flowery than that. If he’d had his way he would have been down on one knee, offering Credence every part and parcel of his life on a silver platter…maybe a nice, shiny gemstone ring…along with a ticket to England or France or Canada, or any other place where wizards were allowed to marry no-majs with impunity…</p><p>“If you don’t feel the same way,” he finally said, his voice soft and achingly hollow even to his own ears, “you don’t have to stay. I can even take away your memories of magic, and of me, right now if you like. This…<em>thing </em> with us, it ends on your terms. You owe me nothing, Credence. Please know that.”</p><p>Part of him hoped that Credence would reject him. That he could let it end like this, gently and kindly, rather than the hellstorm that would ensue if and when MACUSA found out. Even if it shattered his heart into blown-glass pieces to let Credence go, he would at least be allowed to go on his own terms.</p><p>There was perhaps a three-count of heart-rending silence. And then Credence pulled him in close, so that Percival’s head was nestled into the crook of his neck, not a single inch of space between them. He tried to speak, but instead buried his face in Percival’s hair, soft, pained sounds ripping their way from his throat.</p><p>Percival let out a sigh of mingled relief and aching regret, wishing he hadn’t given Credence a choice. At least if he erased the memories himself he could make it good for Credence, let him go out with Percival gently stroking his hair and telling him it would be all right, rather than with an auror clinically and coldly sedating him and leaving him to wake up in that hellhouse of a church…</p><p>But he knew he couldn’t take that choice away from Credence, not even for his own good. <em> I’m going to get my heart broken either way, </em> Percival thought helplessly as he roused what little energy he had left to sling an arm around Credence’s slender hips and caress his back in sloppy, weak strokes. <em> Might as well let Credence decide when he feels like breaking it. </em></p><p>“I love you so much,” he whispered into Credence’s skin, resulting in another wave of choked sobs. “I will give you anything you want, sweetheart. Name it and it’s yours.”</p><p>Credence managed to contain his tears long enough to shyly ask, “Anything?” When the offer was confirmed, Credence sobbed out a request that nearly made Percival start crying himself: “Will you let me stay with you tonight?”</p><p>“Of course, my love. Of course. You can stay as long as you like,” Percival murmured, holding Credence close as if he were something precious, as if he were soft and breakable and didn’t have an uncontrollable fury borne of twenty-two years of pain beaten and burned into his starved body.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Credence looks everywhere for Percy, from the alleyway where they first kissed to Miss Tina’s apartment building. The man is nowhere to be found, and there are times when the despair sinks in, when Credence feels so weak with it he can barely move. If he gets like this there’s nothing to do but wait until it passes, just curl up in an alleyway or a stairwell until the melancholy eases up and he can breathe again. When this happened to him at home it meant a beating, until he <em>had</em> to rouse himself to do his chores. When it happened to him with Percy, it meant a gentle kiss on his forehead and a soft, soothing voice telling him <em>come back to me, sweetheart, I’m here, you’re all right</em> until the fog cleared from his head. Now, however, it just means he floats, in his head and unable to get out, thoughts of his own worthlessness swirling in his mind until he’s too numb to even cry. </p><p>But one good thing does come of it: sometimes when he feels too broken and can’t take it anymore he will transform, not all the way, just partly, because his emotions are easier to process as the obscurus. He fades into a shadowy figure of himself, not the howling wind of destruction but just a little slip of black cloud shaped like his human form, and one day in a moment of clarity he realizes that he can use this particular form of his obscurus to blend into the darkness and not be seen by his enemies. He follows home President Picquery and hides in her home study, remembering how polite Ma was to people in the streets and how awful she was at home. Maybe Picquery will reveal more secrets at home than she will at work.</p><p>He’s right. Two nights of reconnaissance in, he sees her talking to someone in the fireplace. <em> (Odd, </em> he thinks, <em> why don’t they just use telephones?) </em> It’s an older wizard who speaks with the same accent as the man who tried to help Credence in the subway. “If you don’t get something out of Grindelwald soon,” he tells the president, “we will have no choice but to extradite him. He has many crimes to answer for here in Europe, you know.”</p><p>“Of that I am well aware, Minister,” she replies. “But we have yet to make any progress with his interrogations, and as I’m sure you are well aware, our best auror is still convalescing from a very harrowing encounter with the man. Once he’s back to work, we’ll have Grindelwald singing like a canary in no time.”</p><p>“Your ‘best auror,’ I assume, is Percival Graves,” says the wizard in the fireplace. “You maintain, then, that he is still hospitalized for, what did you call it last time we spoke, ‘grievous physical injury and severe mental trauma?’”</p><p>“Of course,” Picquery says smoothly. “I just saw him myself this morning. Still a real mess, poor thing. Talking nonsense about being in love with an obscurial, saying Grindelwald caused him to miscarry a pregnancy that never existed, all that. But I’m sure with time and care, he’ll be back to his former self.”</p><p><em> Talking nonsense? </em> Credence’s blood boils and he has to restrain himself from turning human just to punch her in the face. But he keeps his shadowy form silent and still. It’s exhausting to transform partway like this; the Obscurus wants to fight, wants to tear the threat (and she is a threat, make no mistake) to pieces. But he stays still. He has to. Finding Percy depends on him not getting caught.</p><p>“It’s very interesting to hear you say that, Madam President, because this morning a quite healthy and very definitely mentally sound Percival Graves arrived in my office and accepted a job with my head auror, Theseus Scamander,” the wizard in the fireplace says with an almost-burning smugness. “I do think you know him, ma’am? The elder brother of the bright young wizard who, if memory serves correctly, is the reason <em> why </em> Grindelwald is currently languishing in your cells, rather than still flagrantly impersonating your DMLE director?”</p><p>If Credence were in human form he’d have to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. <em> I like you, </em> he thinks approvingly, as the wizard in the fireplace smirks while Picquery sputters indignantly. And then it hits him: <em> Percy is not in the hospital. Percy is in Europe. </em> He’s so shocked he nearly transforms back into his human form and it takes everything he has to stay in the shadows.</p><p>“That’s not possible—it’s <em> not</em>—you’re lying to me,” she blusters, and Credence almost wants to laugh again. Serves her right, he thinks.</p><p>“Well then, I suggest you check for an imposter in your ranks, Madam President, because I can assure you that I have a very real Percival Graves in my employment as of this morning,” the fireplace wizard tells her dryly. “And before you get any ideas, he is officially under our protection. Extradition will not be possible. He is <em> quite </em> essential to our operations.”</p><p>“He’s <em> ours,” </em> Picquery hisses, all hint of civility gone. “MACUSA needs him. You send him back, you send him back <em> right now</em>—”</p><p>“He’s not a magical artifact, he’s a person. It’s not a matter of ‘sending him back,’” the wizards tells her coolly. “Now, given that you just said yourself that the only man capable of interrogating Grindelwald successfully is the man who now works for <em> our </em> ministry, I believe we should discuss his transfer…”</p><p>Credence leaves Picquery’s apartment that night with three new, crucial pieces of knowledge. First of all, the man who impersonated Percy and nearly killed them both is called <em> Grindelwald, </em> who is currently in American wizard jail and is about to be sent across the ocean to British wizard jail. Second, Percy is in Europe, not America, and Credence needs to get there <em> now. </em> Because third, Percy is about to be in Europe at the same time as the man who tortured him and killed their baby. He might go after Percy again, might <em> hurt </em> him again.</p><p>And Credence is not going to allow that. Not for one damn second.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Percival kneels behind the shell of a burnt-out automobile, eyes locked on the target of the night: a sleazy no-maj inventor who’s been working with an equally sleazy wizard to sell some kind of magical gun with endless ammo to the no-maj mobsters. It’s not only a severe breach of the international statute of secrecy, it could also end in massive bloodshed of both no-majs and wizards alike.</p><p>A few yards away, Theseus stands in the shadow of a brick wall, under a heavy disillusionment charm, his wand at the ready. Each of them has a bead in their ear that has been temporarily enchanted to act as a radio, so that they can speak in little more than a whisper and still hear each other.</p><p>He pulls out his enchanted scope and takes a look at the target. The man is pacing back and forth, checking his watch. Waiting for his wizard contact to appear. Percival watches, heart thrumming beneath his ribcage. It’s a nice, cool spring night, fresh and clean and alive with promise. Percival feels the blood pulsing in his veins, nerves and muscles poised for a fight, and can’t help but smile: it feels good to be back in the field.</p><p>“All right, Perce,” he hears Theseus whisper in his ear. “Now’s your chance. His contact is late. You know what to do.”</p><p>He does. He stands up, casts the glamour charms to disguise himself as the no-maj’s wizard contact, and strolls up to the man like he’s meant to be there. “Evening, Summers,” he says, letting his grandmother’s Irish lilt slip into his voice. “Sorry to be so late. What have you got for me tonight?”</p><p>“You’ll like this, sir,” the no-maj tells him eagerly. “We’ve found a contact in America who’s willing to pay top dollar for smuggled booze. We can use that to fund our research…”</p><p>The man reels off all of the news from the no-maj criminal underworld. Percival keeps him talking, knowing the whole time that Theseus and their aurors are documenting it, taking photos and scribbling down notes. When the man finishes, Percival nods briskly, says, “Excellent,” and then before the man can blink Percival has confunded and obliviated him, and sent him on his merry way. The no-maj police can deal with him now.</p><p>“Great, that’s great,” Theseus whispers in his ear. “Now—oh, <em> fuck.” </em></p><p>Before Percival can ask what he’s cussing about, a cool voice behind him says, “Well. Isn’t <em> this </em> interesting.”</p><p>He turns and sees the man he’s impersonating. Oh. Interesting indeed. “This is about to get ugly,” he warns Theseus as quietly as he can.</p><p>“I’ve got your back,” Theseus promises. “Just try to talk him down first.”</p><p>But that’s not in the cards, apparently. The dark wizard looks at him through cold eyes and says, “I won’t waste my breath asking what you want with me, you’re obviously a Ministry auror.” He raises his wand—</p><p>And in a split second, Percival has his own out and has blocked the curse. The wizard snarls and tries to hit him again, and another shield charm comes out of nowhere: Theseus has come to assist, just like he said he would. And then they’re surrounded. <em> Of course, </em> Percival thinks with a little thrill as he stuns one of the dark wizard’s companions and turns around to face another trying to sneak up on him, <em> of course he brought backup, just like we did… </em></p><p>The fight is short and absolutely, gloriously dirty. These men are tough and angry and think the world owes them something, and they fight like it: all Unforgivables and ugly jinxes and raw fury. He gets hit in the arm (his left, thank God, not his wand arm) with a slashing hex that feels more like a brand. At some point he is knocked off his feet and hits his head on the ground; his next dizzy attempt at a curse nearly hits one of his own team. He gets hit with a blinding jinx that he has to figure out how to cure on the fly.</p><p>By the time the fight has ended and they’ve taken the arms-dealing wizard into custody, Percival is filthy and exhausted and his clothes are streaked with his own blood. But he’s breathing hard, his blood is pumping and he thinks, <em> gods above and below, is that </em> it? <em> I could do this all night! </em> For a moment he’s almost angry at the fates for robbing him of a longer fight. </p><p>He doesn’t even want to use magic now, wants to throw away the wand and punch, feel bones cracking under his hands, feel blood under his nails…he looks at the cuffed wizard and thinks, <em> let me at him, let me tear him apart, he deserves it, making the streets so unsafe, who knows how many families he’s broken up with his greed and his indifference? </em></p><p>He’s almost shocked at himself. Bloodlust is not something with which he is intimately familiar. But the adrenaline coursing through him almost drowns out all else; it’s his first fight since Grindelwald and he wants to take and hurt and punish, let someone else feel the pain he’s felt for the last six months. He looks at the wreckage of the fight, the unconscious and possibly dead comrades of the arms-dealing wizard splayed out around him, and it shocks him how good it feels to see it. To see someone else vulnerable and in pain for a change—</p><p>He feels a pair of hands on his shoulders, grabbing him, turning him around. “Did you hear me?” Theseus demands. “Are you all right? Here, let me—” He grabs Percival’s arm, vanishes the torn sleeve, and runs his wand down the length of the slash, knitting the skin back together. It’s a crude field healing charm and will need to be reinforced by a proper healer later, but for now it’ll do the job.</p><p>It’s the touch more than anything else that breaks the spell, clears the haze of anger and adrenaline from his mind and forces Percival to remember that he is not a streetfighter or a no-maj vigilante, he is an auror and his job is to save and protect, not punish. “Mercy Lewis,” he breathes quietly, his heart twisting in his chest. He can almost hear Credence’s voice in the back of his head: <em> killing them won’t bring me back, Percy…please don’t do that to me. Please don’t stop being the man I loved. </em></p><p>Theseus’ hand comes up and cups the back of his neck, the touch gentle and rough all at once. “You’re okay,” he assures Percival quietly. “We’re okay. We all made it out.”</p><p>Percival seizes on the chance to redeem himself. “Right, but we’ve got a few wounded,” he says, looking around at the battlefield with a more critical eye. “We got medics on the way?”</p><p>“Not enough damage for that. I’ll do triage and cleanup, you get the scum back to the Ministry.” Theseus squeezes the back of his neck one last time and then lets him go with a smile…and then he sees the look on Percival’s face and comes close. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he orders quietly.</p><p>It’s the kind of voice he might use on a frightened rookie, and it’s that, of all things, that makes Percival smile. “It’s been a while,” he admits in an undertone. “I forgot…it’s so easy to forget…to think they deserve whatever pain you inflict on them…”</p><p>Theseus, good old Theseus who hasn’t changed a damn bit since 1918, understands immediately. “They’re still human beings, and you know that,” he says, clapping his hand gently over Percival’s shoulder. “And you didn’t go too far. You know I’d kick your arse from here to Tuesday if you did.”</p><p>“Is that what you tell all your aurors, or just your favorite?” Percival teases him, and some of the tension eases from him when Theseus laughs.</p><p>“It’s good to have you back, Perce,” he says, and lets go. “Now get that bastard back to the Ministry and get him processed. We’ve got work to do.”</p><p>“Yes, <em> sir,” </em> Percival says, a little mockingly.</p><p>Theseus rolls his eyes and walks away. “You know I do technically outrank you,” he says over his shoulder. </p><p>“Ooh, talk dirty to me,” Percival snarks, just to annoy him. Theseus makes a very unprofessional hand gesture behind his back. Percival permits himself one laugh before he gets back to work.</p><p>It’s not MACUSA. He’s not the director anymore. But he’s finally starting to feel like a real person again instead of a weepy invalid, and it’s not much, sure, but it’s the best he’s felt in a while.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Because walkie-talkies had not yet been invented in the 1920s, I handwaved it and made their coms with magic. You're welcome, Theseus and Percival. :P</p><p>I'm not about to beg for comments (pet peeve: authors who threaten to stop writing if no one leaves comments, I SWEAR I WILL NEVER), but if you do comment...please go easy on me and my underdeveloped smut-writing skills. ;P</p><p>...Seriously guys no lie, this is THE kinkiest thing I've ever written to date and. Yeah. I'm genuinely anxious about this one so please please PLEASE tell me if I'm getting it right. *puppy eyes*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Every Light in the Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>RIGHT SO YEAH I did not forget about this fic, I swear. School's starting up again, so I have to deal with that. Also, I have so many ideas for this that I'm having trouble marshalling them into some kind of order so it's not just vignette after vignette of Credence And Percy's Random-Ass Adventure. :P</p><p>TWs for this chapter:<br/>-General reminder that miscarriage recovery and grief/mourning are frequenly discussed or implied in this fic<br/>-Skender appears in this chapter, so: implied animal abuse, implied slavery/human trafficking<br/>-Nagini spends some time in her snake form--if you're scared of giant snakes, proceed with caution<br/>-There's a fight at the end that goes on for longer and is MUCH more detailed than the one in the last chapter. Blood is mentioned.<br/>-Big fat honking TW for dementor attack, and all the depression-like feelings that brings up.</p><p>See end notes for TW spoilers.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Percival refuses to go to a mind healer or take potions, still wary from his time in the hospital. But that’s all right; Newt finds other ways to help him heal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dougal the demiguise sleeps with Percival almost every night, like a faithful puppy. (“More like a concerned nanny,” Newt laughs when Percival tells him about it. “He’s trying to protect you, you see, demiguises have a soft spot for any creatures they think are more vulnerable than they are.”) It’s so comforting to have the soft, warm creature in his bed when he wakes from a nightmare, even if it is a little disconcerting that he can’t always </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> the beast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mooncalves are his favorites, after Dougal. The little things are so bouncy and cute and Newt is kind enough to let Percival feed them every night when he gets home from work. He’s optimistic enough to think they like him back. Even the occamies aren’t as quick to bite him as they were the first time he saw them back in Newt’s case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, on one of his days off, Percival gets an incredible present from his roommate. The minute he wakes Newt drags him down to the zoo in the basement and sits him down in a chair, then carefully places the female niffler on his lap. “Helen,” Newt informs him with a grin, “is expecting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The niffler looks at him through innocent eyes, her hands plucking at one of his cufflinks. Smiling, he pulls a sickle out of his pocket, a substitute that she happily accepts. “Will it just be one baby?” he asks Newt. “Or will it be a litter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, three pups at least. Nifflers do have litters,” Newt informs him. “And she’ll be quite a handful the next few months. She’ll want to add to her hoard, she’ll want to nest, she’ll want to be around humans; nifflers try to befriend bigger beasts in the hopes of protecting their young…” Newt trails off a moment, and then, his eyes carefully on Percival’s face, he offers gently, “I thought you might like to be in charge of looking after her. It’ll be easy, you’ll just have to keep an eye on her; the gestation and birth process are quite simple—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Percival says immediately, cradling the niffler a little more protectively in his arms. “Absolutely. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows what Newt is doing. He’s not entirely unlearned in the area of trauma recovery; aurors do need working knowledge of such things after all. Percival is fully aware this is Newt’s way of trying to help ease his grief over his lost family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he thinks, unable to keep back a little smile as the niffler looks up at him through innocent black eyes, it’s working.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newt smiles too, and puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Good man. I’ve already written out a few notes, they’re upstairs in your desk, and there’s a few tea-towels at the foot of your bed that she’ll want for her nest. She shouldn’t be too bothered by Dougal. Will you mind having two creatures in your room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have to lock up a few things, cufflinks and rings and the like, but it shouldn’t be a problem.” Percival finally looks up and fully meets Newt’s eyes. “Thank you,” he says, and means it with his whole heart. “I know you’re only doing this because you feel sorry for me…but I still appreciate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newt looks surprised. “Oh, no—it’s not that, not at all. It’s just—well, I’ve seen some of my creatures suffering the way you have, you know, they really are very much like us and they mourn the loss of their partners and their young the same way humans do.” He winces and adds, “Not to compare you to an animal, I know most people hate that—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky for you, I know what you meant.” Percival looks back down to the niffler in his arms. “Is she—healthy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very much so. Chance of complications is less than three percent,” Newt assures him. He squeezes Percival’s shoulder gently. “I know that losing your baby hurt you very badly. I’ve seen you…touching your stomach as if to reach for your child and then pulling your hand away like it’s burned if someone sees you. Oh, now”—in response to the alarmed look Percival is sure he has on his face—“you needn’t look at me like that. I only notice because I know you, what you’ve been through. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s a perfectly healthy method of self-soothing; there’s nothing wrong with finding comfort in being touched, even if it’s at your own hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percival manages a weak smile. “That sounds a little dirty,” he says, trying to make a joke as he would if he were having this conversation with Theseus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Newt is having none of it. He moves closer and cups a light hand around the base of Percival’s head, gently guiding him to lean against Newt’s side. Percival can’t help but relax a little; he knows this kind of casual physical contact does not come easy to Newt and it means the world to him that Newt is doing it anyway just to make him feel better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been through a lot,” Newt tells him calmly, “and it’s going to take time to process what happened. I know you know that, but I also know you’re hard on yourself, so…” He squeezes the back of Percival’s neck once and then lets go, nodding to the niffler on his lap. “She’s counting on you, so you need to look after yourself, too. But I know you’ll be all right, Percival. You’re strong. The creatures know it too, or they wouldn’t trust you like they do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percival looks down at his niffler, who’s now asleep with her head tucked against his chest, and he thinks that if he tries hard enough he might be able to make himself believe Newt is right, and he <em>will</em> be okay...not today, maybe, but <em>someday.</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>It takes a week of recon for Credence to find a ship that is headed to some part of Europe, mostly because he has no idea which countries are <em> in </em> Europe. He winds up joining a bunch of circus performers on a ship to England from New York, and hopes he’s going to the right place.</p><p>The ringmaster, Skender, is initially friendly and pretends to care when Credence tells him that he is going to Europe to find someone he cares about. In another life, when Skender promised to help, Credence might have believed him. But now, he knows he’s being used and has no issue with using Skender right back.</p><p>He befriends one of the circus performers on the voyage, a lost-looking girl named Nagini. She shows him that she occasionally can't help but into a snake. He shows her the obscurus, and tells her about Percy. And just like, they are friends.</p><p>It takes ten days to reach England. By then, Credence has decided that he does not like sailing, and he <em> hates </em> Skender. The man shows his true colors when they get to their campground. He locks Nagini up in one tent and puts Credence in another and tries to keep them apart. Apparently he thinks Nagini and Credence are in love, and Credence does absolutely nothing to disabuse him of the idea. He doesn’t want Skender to know his true motives.</p><p>He keeps his head down, mostly, and does his work. And if the odd abused animal or beaten house-elf finds their way out of the camp, well. That was just an accident, Mr. Skender, so sorry, won’t happen again.</p><p>At night he turns into the obscurus and slips out of the camp so he can scour the city for Percy. He steals and painstakingly pours over wizard newspapers. He learns that the underbelly of England, the homeless people and the thieves and the beggars and the prostitutes, are all friendlier and warmer than any of the people he met at MACUSA, save Percy and Tina, and they are more than willing to help him find things out if he is willing to give them even the slightest help in return.</p><p>He does things he’s not proud of. He steals food and money, and he lies to almost everyone he meets about who he is and what he’s done. But he does it all with the hope of finding the man he loves. It’s nearing the end of May and he’s running out of time (they will leave for Paris the next day!) before he has any real leads. But the minute he does, he slips off to Nagini’s cell, takes her hands in his, and tells her, “Tonight we escape.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Percival comes home from work one day in a rage. “What happened?” Newt asks, putting down the baby graphorn he’s cuddling and letting the poor scared thing run away.</p><p>“Fucking Picquery let the bastard get away,” Percival all but snarls. He grabs the bottle of firewhisky that Newt only keeps in the house because he knows Percival likes it, and drinks straight from the bottle. The burn of the alcohol is what he’s after more so than the sedative effect; the mild pain helps to center him. “Your brother is going to absolutely shit himself,” he warns Newt. “He’s already warded your family house to kingdom come. Pretty sure he’s going to be here any minute to ward ours, too.”</p><p>“You put up our wards yourself, doesn’t he trust them?” Newt says practically, and when Percival gives him a <em> what’s wrong with you look, </em> it sinks in and he goes white. “Grindelwald,” he breathes. “Oh…that’s…”</p><p>“Bad,” Percival supplies dully, and downs another shot of firewhisky. “I’m going to get changed. Fuck, I hate this.”</p><p>He stalks upstairs, unsurprised when Newt follows him into the bedroom. Newt does not like to leave Percival alone when he’s sad or angry and, frankly, annoying as it is, Percival can hardly blame him for it. Newt’s more about putting action to words than sitting around worrying, and Percival can definitely respect that.</p><p>He goes into the closet and shucks off his work clothes. He doesn’t wear eighteen-layer high-fashion suits anymore. No point, when he doesn’t have to live up to his image as The Director, One of the Twelve, Descendant of Gondolphus Graves; he dresses like a field auror now and, honestly, he prefers it. He emerges in a pair of worn, soft slacks and an undershirt, and he’s about to put on a loose button-down top when he catches Newt staring at him thoughtfully.</p><p>“What?” he asks finally, when Newt doesn’t say anything. “Something wrong?” He’s gained back most of the weight and muscle mass he lost in captivity, but he knows he doesn’t look <em> exactly </em> like the man he was before he was taken and honestly, he’s kind of offended anyone would expect him to.</p><p>“You’re a handsome man,” Newt says simply, and it brings Percival up short. He wasn’t expecting that. “Strong. Intimidating. Hmm…” He stands up and wanders over. “People like you,” he observes. “People listen to you.”</p><p>Utterly lost, Percival slowly pulls his shirt on and buttons it up like armor. “Is this your way of trying to proposition me?” he asks, more amused than concerned. “Because if it is…well, Tina must have the patience of a saint.”</p><p>Newt blushes something fierce and turns away. “It’s not like that with me and Tina,” he mutters defensively.</p><p>Which Percival knows is, quite frankly, a pile of hippogriff shit…but whatever helps Newt sleep at night. “That doesn’t answer my question, but all right.” </p><p>“I am not trying to seduce you,” Newt says in a tone of exaggerated patience, looking back to Percival as his blush recedes. “I’m just pointing out the obvious. You’re good-looking and you move like an authority figure. I may have some need of your talents, if you’re interested…never mind. What am I saying? You work for the Ministry. You would never…” Newt sighs sadly and turns to go.</p><p>Percival isn’t stupid. He knows how to manipulate suspects and witnesses for information. He knows how to provoke every emotional response under the sun and he knows <em> exactly </em> what Newt is doing. But that doesn’t stop his curiosity from being piqued, and he lunges to catch Newt by the shoulder before he can leave. “I’m going to regret this, but what do you want?”</p><p>Newt turns back around and hesitantly explains, “The circus is in town, you see. A magical one, not a muggle one, just to be clear.”</p><p>Whatever Percival was expecting, that was not it. “All right, you’re going to have to connect the dots here for me.”</p><p>Newt tilts his head to one side. “I was going for plausible deniability in case we get caught, but all right, if you need me to be plain…” He squares his shoulders and asks, as if he’s suggesting they go get an ice-cream cone, “Would you like to help me raid a circus for trafficked creatures tonight, Percival?”</p><p>And it’s a bad idea, and he <em> knows </em> it’s a bad idea, but Percival wants to <em> do </em> something. Grindelwald has escaped and he’s probably going to come for Percival and he’s <em> definitely </em> going to kill him, or try, if they do run into each other and honestly, Percival can’t bear the thought of sitting here waiting for that to happen. The adrenaline rush of doing something, anything—something that will make a difference, even if only to a few animals—is too great a lure to ignore.</p><p>“Let’s go,” he says, and Newt looks as if he’s just been given the most delightful surprise of his life.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Circus Arcanus is terrible. It’s cheap carnival spectacle, and the ringmaster has about as much charm as a dead slug, and the presence of screaming children doesn’t help. Percival is almost glad his parents never bothered taking him to such things when he was a boy; he doubts he would have enjoyed this. And Newt isn’t having much fun either, in fact he’s just about bursting at the seams with rage at the treatment of the creatures set out on display around the big top. </p><p>They approach the ringmaster, and Percival flashes his Ministry badge. The man immediately scrunches up his face in an <em> oh, shit </em> expression and says, “Fine, fine, go inspect if you have to, but make it quick, we gotta get our show on the road. Literally. We’re leaving tomorrow.”</p><p>Once inside, Newt pulls out his case and very quietly coaxes a sad-looking water demon into it. “There you are, little one,” he coos, and casts an illusion charm on the bathtub to make it appear as if the kappa is still there. “Percival, be a love and watch the case while I settle him, would you? I’ll be quick. Do at least <em> try </em> to not duel anyone until I get back.”</p><p>Percival nods and wards the case after Newt has gone down. He doubts that the ringmaster will duel them. Probably too worried about paying a fine. He looks around the tent. It is, like most wizards’ tents, bigger on the inside. There’s one part that’s partitioned off. He goes to take a look, and sees a young woman trapped behind a set of bars. She’s kneeling before a trunk of costumes, her face buried in her arms, utterly defeated.</p><p>He starts to go to her, but before he can, another person enters the enclosure and Percival is forced to draw back, hiding himself behind the curtain. “Nagini,” a soft voice calls out. “Are you ready?”</p><p>“As I’ll ever be.” The woman sighs heavily. “Are you sure you can…”</p><p>“I’m sure.” Percival chances a look. The man in the enclosure kneels beside the girl and lays a gentle hand on her back. It’s hard to say, but from the back, he appears to be…young. Maybe nineteen or twenty. His hair is cropped close and he’s dressed well, or he would be if his clothes weren’t ripped and stained. “I promise you, it’ll be all right,” he assures the young woman.</p><p>“I’ve tried to leave so many times—”</p><p>“None of those times have been with me. Listen—you know what I’ve done. I outran MACUSA <em> and </em> the Ministry, and I survived an attack from Grindelwald. You think I can’t handle that fat old bastard?”</p><p>The girl laughs wetly. “I wish I were as strong as you. Or if not, I wish you were as afraid as I am.”</p><p>“It’s okay to be scared. Now go get ready. Skender’s already on the warpath, and I want him to stay mad at me instead of you.”</p><p>Percival’s heart is in his throat. That voice…gods above and below, it <em> hurts. </em> It’s not fair, he thinks a little bitterly, that six months out from everything, he should <em> still </em> turn into a heartbroken mess at the mere sound of a voice similar to that of the man he’s lost. But it can’t be Credence. It can’t be.</p><p>He draws himself behind the curtain all the way again as the young woman, Nagini, goes to dress for the show. He wants to turn around the corner again, see the man’s face. Maybe—no. He won’t hope.</p><p>Percival’s heart hammers, sweat forming on his skin. He lets his hand drift to his stomach and closes his eyes, tries to let himself be grounded by the feeling of his own touch. How is it, he asks himself in raw, pained exasperation, that he can face down a wizard gangster without blinking, but the mere thought of seeing Credence again, even if it can’t possibly be him, makes him fall to pieces?</p><p>There’s a pregnant pause, and then a heavy sigh. “I know someone is there,” the young man says bluntly, his voice low and dangerous. “You might as well reveal yourself, whoever you are. If you’re honest with me I may let you go.”</p><p>Percival swallows hard. It’s not Credence. It can’t be. He won’t look. <em> If I don’t look, </em> some tiny, sneaky, treacherous part of his mind warns, <em> it might be him. I can imagine it’s him. I can have him back, just for a minute. </em></p><p>“I don’t mean you any harm,” he tells the young man, his throat so dry it’s hard to speak. “Quite the opposite. Are you…are you allowed to leave, may I ask?”</p><p>The kid laughs hollowly, and Percival’s heart breaks all over because his laugh makes him sound even more like Credence. “Why would I want to leave such a generous master as Mr. Skender?” the boy snarks. Then his voice softens. “If you are here to harm or steal from him, come out. I’ll be glad to help you.”</p><p>Percival feels fingertips at the edge of the curtain and gasps, “Don’t!”</p><p>The hand stills. “Mister, whoever you are, I promise I won’t hurt you, no matter where you came from or what you look like,” the boy promises, and Percival just about falls to his knees. “I know a thing or two about how it feels to be looked at and found wanting. Please, just tell me why you’re here.”</p><p>He pulls back the curtain and Percival freezes, can’t bring himself to turn around. Because if he looks, it’s over. Because he so desperately wants to pretend, just for a minute longer. “You remind me of someone I know,” he tries to explain, and to his immense shame his voice breaks. “Someone I lost. Someone who meant more to me than anything.”</p><p>A hand is on his shoulder. “I lost someone too,” the boy says softly. “But I think I might’ve found him again…”</p><p>He could be lying in an alley, beaten senseless and almost dead, and still know the exact shape and feel of Credence Barebone’s hand. He knows, he <em> knows, </em> but <em> how… </em> this <em> must </em> be a dream…but if it is, he hopes he never wakes up.</p><p>“Please, sir,” coaxes the boy gently, and Percival feels himself turning, he can’t resist, he never could. “Please let me see your face.” There’s a hand on his belly now, right over his own, and all he can think is <em> please, please, please, </em> and—</p><p>And then, because nothing in his life can be this good, ever, the tent explodes and they both hit the floor. He covers his head with his hands instinctively, feels the press of the boy’s hand in the small of his back. He hears Newt shouting his name, and oh, right, he was supposed to be guarding the case, oops—but now he has to move, he doesn’t know what’s going on but he can <em> smell </em> the dark magic in the air.</p><p>He fumbles in his pocket for his badge and squeezes it tight, setting off the protean charm that will alert Theseus and the rest of his team that he’s in trouble and needs help, and then gets to his feet amidst clouds of smoke. “Stay down!” he shouts to Credence (it <em> is </em> Credence, he tells himself firmly, and he <em> will </em> see him again, he just needs to make sure they don’t both die first).</p><p>He pushes his way through the smoke and finds Newt, who immediately latches onto him. “What happened?” Newt shouts over the screams of the circus patrons outside. Before Percival can answer he feels something coming at them, and is just barely able to throw up a shield and pull Newt aside to keep from being hit by a curse. “Blast!” he hears Newt shout, and then looks up just in time to see Newt hurl a curse of his own at the assailant.</p><p>“We need to get out of here,” he hears Credence say, and yes, he wholeheartedly agrees, but through the smoke and debris he can barely see Newt half a foot from his face, he’s lost sight of Credence and there’s fire, he can feel it, what’s left of the tent is burning…</p><p>“Newt, take your case and go,” he orders. “The Ministry will be here any minute. There’s dark magic in the air, this is an attack—”</p><p>“Like I’d leave you?” Newt says, sounding genuinely offended. He plunges his hand into the case and comes up with…a cocoon? “Swooping evil,” he explains. “Helped me take out Grindelwald last time.” He does something, makes his case disappear (sent it back to the house, Percival assumes) and then takes a fighting stance. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. </p><p>“Theseus is going to kill me,” Percival says resignedly as the wizard who must have cast the curse emerges through the smoke. </p><p>“I can take care of myself,” Newt insists, and then there are three more emerging from the smoke and there’s no more time for talking, they have to duel.</p><p>Newt is damn good in a duel, Percival definitely has to give him that. He uses his swooping evil to take out his opponents before they can get close enough to hurt him, and if that doesn’t work he’s not above a good old-fashioned stunning spell. And, if all else fails, Percival sees him at one point stick his wand between his teeth and just deck the guy in the face. “That works,” he says with a laugh, after taking out his own opponent with <em> impedimenta. </em>“And they said you weren’t as good in a fight as Theseus.”</p><p>“Who’s been saying that?” demands a new voice, and Percival watches in utter relief as the last of the dark wizards falls and Theseus emerges from the clearing smoke. “Seriously, who says he’s not as good in a fight? Newt’s the one who wrestles nundus every day, for magic’s sake!”</p><p>“I don’t wrestle my nundu,” Newt says with a roll of his eyes. “But I do know the value of defensive magic, how do you think I get my creatures away from traffickers?” Theseus laughs, and then shouts in pain as another explosion knocks all three of them off their feet.</p><p>The carnival-goers outside are screaming in terror, and the skeevy ringmaster is trying to collect as many of his “freaks” as he can before disappearing. The tent is long gone, reduced to cinders, and everything is on fire— “Credence,” Percival suddenly remembers, looking desperately around through a fresh wave of smoke and debris, hands in front of him. “Credence, where are you?”</p><p>A slashing hex hits his outstretched arm just as Newt screams, a high-pitched painful shriek that nearly stops his heart. He hears Theseus shouting, “I’ve got you, Newt, I’ve got you, I’m here—”</p><p><em> No, </em> Percival thinks helplessly, the scent of his own blood mixing noxiously with the dark magic in the air, the sound of Newt’s screams making him sick to his stomach, <em> not them too. I can’t lose anyone else. </em></p><p>A wave of cold rolls over him. Every limb deadens, he can barely think let alone move. A rattling breath sounds near his ear and a flash of panic cuts through the paralyzing cold. Dementors. He has to move, he <em> has </em> to, he’ll die, he’ll lose his soul, he has to fight back…but…why bother, he’s already lost everything that matters to him, what’s one soul more or less in the grand scheme of things…he doesn’t have anything left, his heart is a shriveled dead thing and he’ll never love again, no one will ever love him again either, so why bother fighting…</p><p>
  <em> No. </em>
</p><p>Some tiny voice in the back of his mind holds firm. <em> No. You’re not dead yet. This is not what you were trained to do. You do not give up.  </em></p><p>
  <em> You never give up. </em>
</p><p>He doesn’t think he has any happy memories left. He can’t summon up the joy he felt when Credence surprised him with that first kiss in the alley, or the shock of delight when he learned he was carrying Credence’s child. But there is one thing he can hold onto, one thing that even the dementors can’t make him forget: <em> Credence is alive. Credence is real. Credence is here. </em></p><p>He’s too tired, too heavy, to reach for his wand. But it’s all right. He’s never let that stop him before.</p><p><em> Expecto patronum! </em> he thinks as hard as he can, and it takes two tries, by which point the dementor has its hands on him and is trying to force him upright—but then a giant silver-white <em> something </em> appears and the dementor promptly drops him. He can’t see any others, but that’s all right—if they’re there, the patronus will do its work.</p><p>It’s only when he finally is able to stand that he realizes it’s not his patronus, it can’t be, because his patronus is a wampus cat. That thing is…what <em> is </em> it?</p><p>No time to think about it. He has work to do. He performs an air-blast charm to get rid of some of the smoke. The patronus is still galloping around the three of them, perhaps in case any dementors return, and by its silver light Percival can see that Newt is still on his feet but staggering and obviously disoriented, while Theseus has fallen to the ground. He still hears carnival patrons screaming, hears various shouts and bangs common to defensive spells, and he knows there are Ministry aurors out there fighting off whoever instigated this attack.</p><p>Percival ignores it all and crouches besides the trembling Theseus. Poor guy has always had a hard time with dementors. “You’re all right,” he murmurs, gently helping his friend sit upright. “They’re gone. There now, I’ve got you.”</p><p>“Couldn’t…couldn’t cast,” Theseus tries to explain.</p><p>“Sh-h-h. I know. I had trouble with it myself. Here, do you think you can stand?”</p><p>Newt pulls himself together enough to come and help Percival, and they combine forces to get Theseus back to his feet. “Thanks,” he manages when he’s upright again. “I fucking hate those things.”</p><p>“Don’t we all,” Percival says bitterly, looking around the empty tent again. Credence is gone, as is his circus-performer friend. Whoever or whatever started this, he has a sinking feeling they got what they were after. The fighting is dying down. Mediwizards are on the scene now, and any minute now he knows he will be tagged to come out and deal with triage and recovery.</p><p>“What happened?” Newt asks. “Did the Ministry raid the circus?”</p><p>“No, we were called in response to the explosion.” Theseus shoots Percival a sharp look. “You know, when I said you needed to get out of the house, I meant <em> start dating again, </em> not <em> go get yourself blown up at a circus. </em> And how the hell did you get Newt to come along?”</p><p>“Long story.” Percival looks down at his own arm and realizes <em> oh, yeah, I’m bleeding again. </em> Newt notices at the same time, and quickly and gently heals the wound as Percival goes on, “We were minding our own business when all of a sudden, boom, giant explosion, sudden influx of dark wizards. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to your baby brother, Theo.”</p><p>The nickname softens the glare on Theseus’ face, just a little. He reaches out and gently clasps Percival’s uninjured arm. “Guess I can’t be too mad. You were the one who cast the patronus just now, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he says, and wonders if it’s true. It didn’t look like his patronus, but who else could’ve done it?</p><p>The mediwizards reach them, as does a member of the clean-up team and two of their aurors. Newt is hustled away to be looked over with all the other civilians, and Percival and Theseus are drawn into the post-fight routine. Percival lets himself be pulled along. It’s his job, yes, and usually he’s happy to do it. But right now, he is tired. He is hurt. He wants to get away from here and he wants to go home—no. No, he wants to go back out there. He knows Credence is out there now, he <em> knows, </em> and he has to find him.</p><p><em> Just get through tonight, </em> he orders himself. <em> Just do your job. Don’t tell anyone. You know they’ll just look at you like you need those potions Picquery made the healers force-feed you back in December. Credence is out there, and you </em> will <em> find him again. Just get through tonight, and you can go look. </em></p><p>
  <em> You can do this. You will not lose him again. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Credence wakes with a splitting headache to the smell of blood and dirt and cheap alcohol, a bone-deep chill running through his veins. He shivers and feels a warm weight squeeze him gently in return. He opens his eyes to darkness and gasps, “Where are we?” Another gentle constriction around his waist lets him know that Nagini is currently stuck in snake-form. He realizes as he shivers again that she is trying to comfort him as best as she can.</p><p>He tries to think back to the last thing he remembers. He was with Percy. He knows that. He didn’t get a good look at the man’s face, but he knows that voice. He knows it was Percy, and he feels a brief flash of anger: he was <em> so close. </em> Percy was <em> right there, </em> split-seconds away from holding and loving and kissing him for the first time in <em> forever, </em> and someone had the audacity to take that away from him by attacking the circus.</p><p>He remembers the explosion, he remembers pushing Percy to the ground, ready to protect him, telling Percy they had to get out of there. And then there were people there hurling curses at him, and at Percy and his friend (Newt, Percy had called him, and the answering voice was so familiar Credence could swear he knew the man), and it was all smoke and fire and pain and chaos…</p><p>And then there had been cold, and dark, and something rattling and evil sucking his breath, and he’d been paralyzed…he couldn’t move, fear and cold and pain keeping him to disoriented to fight back…he’d remembered so clearly the crack of the belt across his skin, and the false Percival telling him he was useless, and the look in Modesty’s eyes when he turned into the obscurus, and the pain of being torn apart by MACUSA’s defensive spells…</p><p>He’d smelled something rotten and awful, some slimy hands grabbing him and trying to force his head up. He’d curled into a ball, his last defense. Even the obscurus couldn’t help, it tried to fight, he could feel his body trying to transform, but somehow whatever had made him feel cold had also sedated his obscurus, and Credence had just laid there defenseless until…until what? There had been a bright light, he remembers that…but what happened next?</p><p>It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s stuck inside a traveling crate that smells of stale food and creature dander, and Nagini is with him. And that can only mean one thing: Skender still has them both. They never even had a chance to escape, even though they <em> should </em> have, in the chaos of the attack. And he should have been able to get Percy, too…</p><p>He rolls over in Nagini’s coils and presses his face against her scales. A sob escapes him, and he feels her snake head pressing gently against his shoulder. She’s trying to reassure him, he knows it, but right now, he feels broken and utterly inconsolable. He lets another sob escape, and then one more, because now Ma isn’t here and she can’t stop him from crying.</p><p>“He was there, Nagini,” he tells her through his tears. “Percy. He came for me. He thought I was dead, but he was <em> there…</em>if we hadn’t been attacked…”</p><p>She nudges him again, and he opens his eyes to see hers inches from his face. He’s never seen a snake look so concerned before. “When you’re human again,” he says, “you’ll have to to tell me what the hell happened. I’ve never come up against something that even the obscurus couldn’t handle.”</p><p>She nods once, and then squeezes him a little tighter. When he doesn’t do what she wants him to do, she uses her full body to press him down to the floor, wrapping him completely in her coils and nudging him with her head until he gets the hint and relaxes against her, letting his eyes fall shut. She wants him to rest, and at this point, he doesn’t really have much to do other than comply.</p><p>He cries a little, and she nuzzles him and squeezes him gently and lets him weep. She knows how badly he’s hurting now, because he was <em> so close </em> and now they’re on their way to Paris. And he knows they can get out again, their escape plan will work just as well in Paris as it would in London, but he’s being taken away from Percy <em> again, </em> and he hates this so much and it’s just not <em> fair. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Animal/human abuse TW spoilers: It's implied that Skender abuses his animals and house-elves, and Credence occasionally, sneakily sets them free when he gets a chance. Newt goes to the circus specifically for the purpose of saving some of these animals, and manages to rescue a kappa before the circus is attacked.</p><p>Snake!Nagini TW spoilers: Credence is fully incapacitated by a dementor attack, and while he is recovering Nagini is stuck in her snake form. She comforts him as best as she can by wrapping herself around him and squeezing gently while he cries. At one point, trying to get him to rest, she very pointedly pins him to the floor until he gives up and goes to sleep. There's NO implication that she will hurt or eat him, it's pretty much a Soft Feels scene, but I'm tagging it anyway just in case anyone out there who is super-phobic of snakes is squicked out by the idea of a human snuggling with a giant-ass snake.</p><p>Action violence TW spoilers: Newt and Percival raid a circus for trafficked animals, and the circus is attacked by dark wizards. The attack begins with an explosion, they fight off a couple of bad guys with their own magic as well as Newt's swooping evil. Theseus shows up and it looks like they've won, until another explosion hits. It's implied that Newt is injured and Theseus is in fear of his life (turns out he's fine). Percival gets hit with a slashing hex and bleeds, it's mentioned that he can smell his own blood. No character deaths, no major injuries, just explosions and mentions that the tent is burning.</p><p>Dementor/depression TW: During the attack on the circus, dementors turn up. Percival struggles to fight them off because all he can think about is what he's lost ("why bother, he’s already lost everything that matters to him, what’s one soul more or less in the grand scheme of things…he doesn’t have anything left, his heart is a shriveled dead thing and he’ll never love again, no one will ever love him again either, so why bother fighting…") until he remembers that Credence is alive, and is able to use that hope to cast his patronus. It's also mentioned that Theseus is badly affected by the dementors as well; he's shaken after the attack and Newt and Percival have to help him get back on his feet. Finally, Credence describes the dementor attack from his own POV; he is trapped in his own bad memories and even his obscurus can't push through the effects of the dementors to help him fight back. All characters survive the dementor attack. No one gets their soul sucked out.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. You’re a Star in the Summer Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm baaaaack! :D</p><p>Passed my HESI (kind of a nursing school SAT) with flying colors today. One down, two to go before the NCLEX! O.o</p><p> </p><p>TWs for this chapter:<br/>-General reminder that miscarriage/loss of a pregnancy is a theme of this fic and will occasionally come up in the text.<br/>-Multiple references to (but no scenes of) what I can only describe as wizarding police brutality<br/>-Snake!Nagini makes an appearance again, this time while she's eating<br/>-Rough (CONSENSUAL, but rough) sex. I'm gonna go ahead and tag it under-negotiated kink because it's essentially painplay without an established safeword.</p><p>See notes for TW spoilers. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two days after Grindelwald escapes a Goldstein sister arrives, but not the one Percival was anticipating. This one comes bearing an enchanted trunk and an equally enchanted no-maj. </p><p>It takes only a few minutes of watching Queenie and Jacob together for Percival to understand why they’ve come to England, even if they’re reluctant to tell him. There’s only one reason someone hovers around their partner the way Jacob is hovering around Queenie. <em> You’re pregnant, </em> he thinks, and her face freezes. <em> Do Newt and Tina know? Are you going to tell them? </em> </p><p>Slowly Queenie nods, comes over and sits beside him on the couch, and takes his hand between both of hers. “Teeny’s <em> furious,” </em> she whispers. “She says we shoulda been more careful.” And then, very suddenly, she bursts into tears and presses her face into his shoulder. “S-Sorry,” she says when she’s calm again. “I’m j-just a—a regular water-spout th-these days.”</p><p>“Comes with the territory,” he tells her with a chuckle. “It’s how I figured it out, actually. Ask Tina about <em> that </em> sometime…I burst into tears because I couldn’t get my typewriter to type my reports for me. When she asked if I was all right, I shouted at her and threatened to make her work with you as a coffee girl.”</p><p>She giggles wetly and wipes away the few remaining tears. “Really?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah.” He looks up to Jacob, who’s coming over with a tray of freshly brewed tea and  delicious-looking lavender-and-honey cheesecake. “Better get used to it,” Percival warns him with a wry smile. “She’ll love you one minute and hate you the next.”</p><p>“Sounds like the voice of experience,” Jacob says as he hands Percival a teacup. “So, you got little ones yourself then, right?”</p><p>Queenie pales, and Percival asks her, “Wait, he doesn’t know?” She shakes her head, and he can’t suppress a laugh. “Oh boy…well, first thing you ought to know, Jacob, is that wizards can bear children.”</p><p>Jacob nearly spits out his tea. It takes the combined efforts of Queenie, Percival, and Newt to convince him that they’re not pulling his leg. “Wow,” Jacob says when, at last, he believes them. “That’s something, isn’t it?”</p><p>“It’s not exactly what I’d call a good time, either,” Percival says wryly. Jacob has taken the whole “wizards are fine with same-sex relationships” thing better than Pervical thought he would, which is a relief. “So to answer your original question, no, I never carried to term. Grindelwald saw to that.”</p><p>Jacob looks stricken. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve hurt like hell.”</p><p>“Oh, it did. But don’t be sorry. The only one who ought to be sorry is him…and he will be.” He turns to Queenie and slips an arm around her shoulders. “Your baby will grow up in a safe world. I give you my word. And I’m sure Tina will back me up on that.”</p><p>“If she ever forgives me for getting on the nest in the first place,” Queenie says glumly. </p><p>“She’s just worried about us, sweetheart,” Jacob assures her. “But she’ll be here in a few days, and we can try to talk to her then. And that weird president of yours can’t get us, right?”</p><p>“The sooner you two get married and settled, the better,” Percival tells them. At Jacob’s look of confusion he explains, “The English magical community sees family as a sacred bond, and it’s considered wrong to separate people from their children unless it’s absolutely necessary. So if you’re married and you have a baby here in England, <em> technically </em> you’re under the protection of that law and Picquery can’t mess with you.”</p><p>“Whoa.” Jacob looks uncertainly to Queenie. “So is there, like, a wizarding courthouse we can go to, or…?”</p><p>“There’s a registration center at the Ministry. I’ll have Theseus take you there tomorrow,” Newt promises. “In the meantime, until you two get on your feet you can stay here. Once you’re married, Jacob, you’ll get squib status here. Which means if you’d like to reopen your bakery in Diagon Alley, you can.”</p><p>While they’re discussing that, Percival very quietly asks Queenie, “Are you all right? Did something happen?”</p><p>She nods and presses her face into his shoulder briefly before she explains, “Picquery came after me to find you. When I told her I didn’t know any more than Teeny did, she got mad and told me she knew I’d been seeing Jacob. She said since obliviation didn’t work—since he knew so much she’d have to—to—”</p><p>Her eyes well with tears, and Percival knows what she’s implying. “She won’t get to him here. Nothing will happen to you or your baby, or Jacob,” he promises. Then he says hesitantly, “You <em> were </em> going to tell me, weren’t you?”</p><p>“I didn’t want to hurt you,” she admits. “I thought maybe it would remind you of…well, it’s just…you’ve lost so much, you know?”</p><p>“Never be afraid to tell me things,” he insists. “I’m happy for you. This is…this is good, okay? And you deserve it.” And then he thinks, <em> And please don’t fly through the roof…no one knows but you, and I’d like to keep it that way… </em></p><p>He can barely think the words. But Queenie hears what he isn’t saying, even in thought. “If he’s out there, you’ll find him,” she whispers, squeezing his hand tightly. “And you’ll get your happy ending, too.”</p><p>Oh, how he hopes she’s right.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Tina arrives three days after Queenie does and busts in on Percival, Theseus, and their team of Aurors like she owns the place. “I don’t work for MACUSA anymore,” she tells Percival briskly with a flash of her badge. “I’m here on behalf of the International Confederation of Wizards, to ensure that Grindelwald and any associated fugitives are brought in without any human rights violations.”</p><p>“Oh, this ought to be good,” Theseus snorts. “Are we really going to quibble about whether or not we’re treating that fascist with enough decency?”</p><p>“Fascist or not, he shouldn’t be executed without trial. But the second man we’re tracking…he’s in real danger. Grindelwald is after him, and there are multiple governments prepared to execute him without trial as well.” Tina’s face tenses, and she adds to Percival, “You…may want to sit down for this.”</p><p>“I’m not <em> that </em> sensitive,” he tells her irritably. “You know, I survived a month with Grindelwald. I’m not going to fall apart from a bit of bad news.”</p><p>Tina sighs heavily and addresses Theseus. “What do you know about the attack on New York?” When he admits it’s not much, she grimly tells him, “The damage was wrought by an American obscurial, the first we’d had in hundreds of years. He was shot down on President Picquery’s orders and we thought he died. We now have reason to believe he is alive.”</p><p>Percival decides then that he really should take her advice and sit down. It’s one thing to be sure of it himself that Credence is alive. It’s another to <em> confirm </em> it.</p><p>Tina shoots him a sympathetic look and continues, “The ICW thinks that Credence could be a powerful ally if he’s given a chance to take our side. MACUSA and the British and German Ministries, on the other hand, are a little skeptical. I know for a fact that Picquery has issued a kill on sight order for him, and your Ministry is prepared to use bounty hunters if they have to.”</p><p>Percival looks helplessly at Tina. “He’s been alive all this time,” is all he can say. If he hadn’t seen Credence at the circus he wouldn’t have believed her, or he might’ve just gone into shock. His heart is racing and all he can think about is going to find Credence, <em> now. </em></p><p>She nods and tells him, much more gently, “He went to Picquery and from what I’ve heard, she did the same thing that Grindelwald did to me and Newt when he was pretending to be you. Just hauled him off to die. No trial, no advocates, no opportunity for final rights, none of it. He got himself out and left her and the attendants alive. According to witnesses, he just wanted to find you.”</p><p>“So, someone tell him where I am already,” Percival blurts out before he can think of all the reasons why it’s a bad idea.</p><p>Theseus finally catches on, and wisely chooses that moment to shoo the other aurors out of the room. When it’s just the three of them alone he says, “So. When you told me you were pregnant, but lost the child because of Grindelwald…”</p><p>“Credence was the other parent, yes.” Percival sighs when he sees Theseus roll his eyes to the ceiling. “Theo, I’m sorry, I—”</p><p>“No, no, no apologies necessary.” Theseus pauses and then adds, with a familiar smirk, “But once we find and save this kid, if you think I’m not going to hold it against you for the rest of your life that you got yourself knocked up by an obscurial, you’re out of your mind.”</p><p>“Fair enough,” Percival concedes with a laugh. “So, then…” He sobers as he turns to Tina. “I probably don’t want to know, but…what is the Ministry going to do to him when we find him?”</p><p>She winces. “They want to use him as a weapon,” she admits point-blank, “and if they can’t do that…well…that’s why I’m here. To make sure that he’s given the humane treatment he deserves.” She takes his hand between hers and squeezes tightly. “I’m not going to let them kill him or put him in prison. That much I can promise. But don’t count on being able to see him much, not at first anyway.”</p><p>“Just give us a chance to have a future,” he requests quietly. “That’s all I want.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>The escape from the circus is not pretty. It is not nice. Credence is sure there are bodies left behind, of creatures if not humans. But now that he knows Percy is in England, he will stop at nothing to get back. To get <em> home. </em></p><p>Nagini comes with him, of course, because he wouldn’t leave her behind for anything. Somehow he is sure that Percy wouldn’t want Credence to leave her behind, if they knew about her.</p><p>He is lured to an attic with the promise of meeting his real mother and instead finds a half-elf who almost immediately dies at the hand of a stranger, a dark wizard that Credence doesn’t know and doesn’t want to. It’s too much, he burns out his energy with the obscurus and wakes to find Nagini curled around him. He cries like it might help. It doesn’t.</p><p>“I need to find him,” he tells her later, when she’s stuck in snake form again and he’s feeding her dead mice stolen from a potion supply shop. “He’s the only family I’ve got left now. Well, him and you. But I bet he’ll like you.” She looks up at him through sympathetic eyes. He’s still getting used to seeing human expressions on her snake face, and it makes him laugh. She looks quite pleased with herself for that, and he really doesn’t know what he would do without her.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t take long for Percival to learn the rules of being intimate with Credence (don’t make him turn his back to you, always let him top, encourage him to explore and experiment, talk to him constantly, let him touch you as much as he wants without asking to reciprocate…) and it also didn’t take him long to learn that Credence, for all his petulant displays of anger and fear, was <em> so ready </em> to love and be loved.</p><p>And with that having been established, it wasn’t exactly a shock that when they did learn that Credence was a wizard, it happened during sex.</p><p>Credence had, after much discussion, debate, and (on Percival’s end) pleading, finally decided he would allow Percival to eat him out, an experience that, in his opinion, was very much worth the wait. The weight of Credence’s heels pressing into his back, the near-suffocation of having his face buried between those long legs, the heady sounds of pleasure coming from the boy…it was perfect, and if Percival could have stayed in that wonderful hazy, lust-drunk, mildly oxygen-deprived place forever, he would have.</p><p>He’d needed this, <em> really </em> needed it after the week he’d had. He’d been tired, <em> so </em> tired for the last few nights, mostly due to his absurd dreams and accompanying restlessness, which gave way to a distinctly un-auror-like inability to control his emotions. But none of that mattered now, he thought dreamily as he felt Credence writhe under his tongue and his hands. Now, all he had to do was just stay here, <em> just </em> like this, and keep going until he made his beautiful boy come…</p><p>And then Credence was pulling his hair, pulling him back, begging him, “Stop, lord in heaven, <em> please </em> stop.” He used his foot to shove Percival to the floor. Percival landed on his back with a gasp and tried to sit up, only to find Credence on top of him. “I need to be inside you. <em> Now,” </em> Credence demanded.</p><p>“Anything you want,” he said, and then moaned helplessly as Credence’s mouth attached itself to his neck. <em> “Oh</em>—yes, <em> yes, </em> take me sweetheart, I’m yours.”</p><p>Credence busily undressed him, eyes flashing with lust, and pinned him hard to the floor. “Do that spell,” he ordered, and Percival obligingly cast the charm to make himself slick and open. “Perfect. Now lie still. Just like that.” </p><p>He thrust in, one hard, deep motion that hit Percival in just the right spot, which made him let out a nearly inhuman cry. Credence took up an unforgiving pace, kicking the bed and making the floorboards creak with the force of his thrusts. He reached down between them and jerked Percival hard, making him cry out in half-pleasure half-pain as he came suddenly and startled them both. </p><p>“I hope you liked that, because I’m going to make you come again,” Credence whispered against the shell of his ear, and then fucked into him impossibly <em> harder </em> and <em> deeper </em> and <em> oh gods this was the best kind of torture</em>—</p><p>“I don’t think I can,” Percival protested, and then let out a desperate moan as Credence ground deep into him, hitting that spot with such wonderful precision that it made starts pop in front of his eyes. “<em> Ahh</em>—Credence, love, I don’t think I—<em>oh fuck—shit, </em> that hurts—”</p><p>Ever considerate even when he knew this kind of rough attention was more than welcome, Credence briefly froze in place. “Do you want me to stop?”</p><p>Percival immediately locked his legs behind Credence so he couldn’t pull out and gasped, “I’ll fucking <em> die </em> if you stop.”</p><p>Credence didn’t have to be told twice. As he resumed thrusting he reached up and pulled Percival’s hair, which he knew he loved, and changed the angle so that he hit that spot <em> every time </em> and it <em> hurt </em> but it was <em> so good. </em> Percival arched up with a shrieking cry as Credence thrust in deep, his nails dragging sharply down Percival’s side with just the right amount of pressure to send jolts of pleasure dancing through him, and what happened next wouldn’t have been odd if any of the things happened on their own, but <em> all together, </em> well…</p><p>It ought to have been impossible for him to come again so soon, but a second, even more intense orgasm was dragged from Percival’s body with supernatural force. He cried out and then went limp, his eyes rolling back as…wait…as he and Credence <em> levitated off the ground. </em></p><p>Credence squeezed Percival painfully tightly as he came too, and then the lamps in the room all came on at the same time, and all the windowpanes shattered. And then as suddenly as it had come on it was over, and they both dropped back to the floor, the lights went on, the sounds of New York City floating in through the broken windows. </p><p>“What was <em> that?” </em> Credence breathed, unusually still, his face pressed into Percival’s chest as though he were scared.</p><p>“That…was not me,” Percival said, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. He was stiff and sore and could barely move, but he felt <em> good. </em> And even better, he could feel power radiating inside Credence where his hand touched his boy’s skin, could feel the ebb and flow of magic as strongly as he could feel his own pulse. “Sweetheart, I think…I think you just did magic.”</p><p>“That’s not possible. <em> You’re </em> the wizard.”</p><p>“Credence, love…I think you just <em> willed </em> me to come again. Not that I wouldn’t have eventually, with the things you were doing to me, but…I wasn’t close yet. But I think you wanted me to come again, so I did.” With a low groan Percival pushed himself up into a sitting position and reached for his wand. “Here. Take this and visualize something you want. See if it happens.”</p><p>With no small degree of trepidation, Credence took the wand as if it were a grenade. Very carefully he turned it over in his hand for a moment, examining it closely, and then he seemed to make some important decision: with a look of intense determination, he pointed the wand directly at Percival…</p><p>…and just like that every sore muscle, every scrape from the wood floor, every bite mark and every bruise healed itself. Percival stared at Credence in shock. “Did you just do a healing charm? Really?”</p><p>Credence blushed and hastily shoved the wand back into his hands. “I’m sorry, I just—I know you get really tired and sore when we have sex, and—and you said to think of something I wanted, and I want you to feel good instead of hurting, and—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do something bad—”</p><p>Percival quickly drew the trembling boy into his lap and soothed him with a barrage of kisses over his sweet face. “No, no, love, it’s not bad, I’m just a little bit shocked, that’s all—gods, Credence, I’ve been in the field for years and I have trouble doing healing charms on the fly.”</p><p>“Wait…” Credence looked at him through wide, hopeful eyes. “I did it right? I mean, magic—I did magic <em> right?” </em></p><p>It spoke volumes about Credence that his delight came not from the knowledge that he was a wizard, but that he was good at something. “It’s…it’s more than that,” Percival told him, unable to keep a quiver out of his voice. “You’re good, yes, but I think you’re forgetting what this means…sweetheart, you’re a wizard.”</p><p>Credence’s already-big eyes got impossibly wider, his grip on Percival’s arms became impossibly tight, and his voice dropped to near-inaudible levels as he breathed, “We’re <em> safe.” </em></p><p>“Oh, Credence…” Percival held Credence close and buried his face in his young lover’s hair, his heart pounding and his eyes traitorously wet. “You’re magical, sweetheart,” he whispered. “In more ways than one.”</p><p>His breath turned ragged and tears welled in his eyes as he clung to Credence like a lifeline. It really was unlike him, he reflected even as he cuddled his lover, to be so easily driven to tears; he usually had much better control over his emotions than this. Maybe it was just Credence, he thought, just the magic of this pure, miraculous creature who had so swiftly and thoroughly captured his heart.</p><p>Or if Credence really was a wizard…Percival realized with a jolt what <em> else </em> could be causing his fatigue and oversensitivity. <em> Fuck, </em> how had he not noticed…his appetite had changed…the smell of coffee, which he usually lived on, suddenly made him sick…he’d had what he thought was a stomach flu a month ago…</p><p><em> No, </em> he thought, <em> it’s not possible, it can’t be… </em> The spells to create life could be done wandlessly, yes, but Credence couldn’t enchant him into pregnancy, not so easily; he would have to <em> want it, </em> crave a child more than anything in the world, would have to focus on conception so intensely that their lovemaking would suffer for it; every wizard couple knew that. It couldn’t be done unintentionally.</p><p><em> But, </em> a voice in the back of his head reminded him uneasily, <em> Credence probably wants a real family more than anything, and he loves you…and he just did a multi-level healing charm with no education or training…if anyone could accidentally get a wizard pregnant, let’s face it, Credence would be the one. </em></p><p>He almost voiced his suspicions, but no, no yet…he needed to be absolutely sure. Instead, he wrapped Credence more securely in his arms and held on like disaster would strike if he let go, his heart so full of love for his beautiful miracle of a lover that he thought it may well burst.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Percival and Tina easily fall back into their old dynamic, going back to “Graves” and “Goldstein” and referring to one another by their titles. Technically, however, she now outranks him and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t damn proud.</p><p>It takes her less than a week to get a photograph of Percival in the <em> Daily Prophet, </em> in the hopes that Credence will see it and make for England from wherever he is. Sure enough, there’s a commotion at a Parisian circus the very day after the <em> Prophet </em> article is released…and onlookers describe some of the ruckus as being caused by “a big black cloud.”</p><p>Tina, Theseus, and Newt accompany Percival to the circus grounds and examine every square inch of the empty camp for evidence. Newt’s trick of spraying gold dust and letting the niffler loose turns out to work brilliantly, and they’re able to pick up a trail—not of Credence, but of someone who apparently escaped with him, a lovely dark-haired girl who Percival thinks might resemble Credence <em> just </em> enough to perhaps be a relative.</p><p>Credence and the girl, according to the trail, crossed the channel. And then, of course, the trail goes cold. “Damn,” Theseus sighs. “Well, it was worth a shot, at least.” He pats Newt on the back. “Good job, little brother.”</p><p>“Well, he <em> was </em> here. And now we know he’s in England.” Tina reaches over and squeezes Percival’s arm, seeing his face and knowing what he’s thinking. “We <em> will </em> find him,” she promises.</p><p>“We have to,” he tells her, meaning every word, “because I don’t know what I’ll do if we don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Weeks pass. The Ministry starts playing hardball. When Percival finds out that they sent a bounty hunter after Credence while he was still in Paris, he absolutely loses it and threatens to quit. Theseus barely talks him down, and reminds him, “Tina’s job is to punish them for human rights violations, remember? <em> Your </em> job is to find the little fucker. So quit worrying about what everyone else is doing.”</p><p>“They sent a <em> bounty hunter—” </em></p><p>“I know. I <em> know </em> it’s fucked-up, okay? Believe me, I know,” Theseus cuts him off. “And if I were minister I’d kick a man’s arse if he suggested sending a bounty hunter after a scared, injured kid. But you know that the sooner we find him and get him registered, the sooner they call off the dogs. Now let’s figure this out. You know him best, so help me think. Where would he go?”</p><p>The truth is, Percival doesn’t <em> know. </em> He knows that Credence is beautiful when he comes, that he has knockout brown eyes that have the power to make Percival do whatever Credence wants, that he lived the first twenty-two years of his life feeling nothing but unending pain and misery, that the first spell he ever cast on purpose was a healing charm, that he will do anything (literally <em> anything) </em> to save the people he loves.</p><p>But he doesn’t know where the hell Credence would go in London, and it breaks his heart.</p><p>And then comes the night in July that changes everything.</p><p>He’s stumbling home from a raid just after midnight, so exhausted he can barely keep his head up (Theseus told him to go home hours ago, but it was a raid on a known Grindelwald supporter’s place of business, and Percival just couldn’t bring himself to leave until every last detail had been checked off), when he stops and nearly falls over mid-step. Because there on the street corner, leaning on the lamppost with his head resting on his folded hands, is Credence Barebone.</p><p>He looks every bit as lovely as Percival remembers, and for a moment all he can do is just stand there, his heart in his throat and his mind unable to process anything else, as he stares helplessly at his beautiful boy. His hair is shorter, showing off that flawless jawline, which now is dotted with what must be at least a few days’ growth of stubble. He’s as pale as ever but he stands up straight now, the hunch that robbed him of two or three inches of height gone. He is…he is <em> perfect. </em></p><p>For a moment Percival stands rooted to the spot, the sight of his lover a hypnotic vortex into which he cannot help but be drawn. He’s torn between falling to his knees and thanking any gods there be that Credence is <em> here</em>, because he thought he’d never see him again, and kissing him senseless before stealing him away.</p><p>Credence apparates <em> (Mercy Lewis, he can apparate now!) </em> from the streetlamp to the spot where Percival is frozen in place. For a long moment he says nothing. Just stands there, hands cupped tenderly around Pericval’s face, staring into his eyes as if he’ll never be able to look his fill. Percival, for his part, is completely mesmerized. He doesn’t think he could look away, let alone leave, for anything in the world right now. Grindelwald could start a rally right here, and still Percival would stand still, his whole being completely fixated on Credence.</p><p>When they finally kiss, they melt into each other like ice cream into a hot slice of pie, until it’s no longer apparent where one ends and the other begins. Credence tastes so good and his lips are so soft and so perfectly warm, Percival wonders if he’s fallen into the best dream of his life. There is nothing, <em> nothing, </em> that could compare to this. It’s not just pleasure and relief, it’s more, <em> far </em> more, it’s life itself. If he didn’t have this, Percival thinks hazily as Credence’s arms close all the way around him, his life would truly be incomplete. He’s seen that firsthand.</p><p>Eventually the kiss breaks, and suddenly a choked sob bursts from Percival’s throat—and—oh, <em> finally—</em>the first tears he has cried in months trickle from his eyes. He slides from Credence’s arms and falls to his knees, his hands clutching Credence’s as words spill unchecked from his lips. “Please, sweetheart…oh, <em> please </em> forgive me…the man who betrayed you, who left you to die…Credence, I swear it wasn’t me, I would never hurt you, never…”</p><p>“Sh-h-h, I know, Percy, it’s okay.” Credence immediately settles on the ground beside Percival and pulls him in close, one hand cupping the back of his neck while the other soothingly traces up and down his spine. “Don’t cry,” he murmurs tenderly. “I’ve known the full story for a while now…it’s been a few months. I know things.”</p><p>Percival lets out another broken sob mingled, however impossibly, with a weak laugh. It’s <em> funny, </em> and it’s so very Credence—<em>I know things, </em> he says like a child, as if the conspiracy that Grindelwald orchestrated for the purpose of his capture is just a trite story he learned out of a library book—and it’s funnier still that all this time Percival mourned for his lover without shedding a single tear, and now here he is dissolving into a puddle in Credence’s arms.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he hears Credence say, one hand still tracing gentle circles across Percival’s back. “I know about the baby…oh, Percy, I’m so sorry. If I’d figured out what was going on sooner—”</p><p>Oh, and that's just more than Percival can take. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s not your fault, not at all…I was so blind…I should have seen how you were suffering…gods above and below, how are you not <em> furious </em> with me?” He presses his face deeper into Credence’s neck, unable to look him in the face. “I let our baby die…I let <em> you </em> die…I was so wrapped up in what was happening with us, I spent so much time looking over my shoulder for MACUSA, I never thought <em> he </em> would be the one to tear us apart…Credence, darling, if you hate me now, I’ll understand.”</p><p>“Sh-h-h, <em> no, </em> no Percy, <em> never.” </em> Credence holds him close, both arms wrapped tight around Percival as he rocks him gently like a child. “I don’t hate you. For God’s sake, I owe you everything. My magic, my <em> life</em>—it’s all thanks to you. Now I get to give you something back.” He draws back and makes Percy look him in the eyes. “It’s my turn to take care of you now, my love,” he says tenderly, and it’s that more than anything else that just <em> melts </em> Percival, because Credence has never called him a pet name in the course of their relationship and it sounds so <em> good </em> coming from him.</p><p>“Let’s go home,” he says, and the look in Credence’s eyes—it’s enough to bring a dead man back to life.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Police/government brutality TW spoilers: (Tina relays to Percival that Picquery tried to execute Credence without giving him a trial, last rites/last words, etc. There are multiple discussions of bounty hunters being sent after Credence, and at one point Percival openly calls Theseus out for not stopping the MoM for using what are basically assassins to catch and kill criminals without due process. Theseus at one point snarks that it doesn't matter if Grindelwald gets due process. No actual depictions of any of the above, just discussion of/reference to it.</p><p>Snake TW spoilers: After they escape the circus, Nagini is briefly stuck in her snake form again, and Credence steals dead rodents from a potion supply store to feed her. Not graphic, just letting any snake-fearing people know it's there.</p><p>Rough sex/undernegotiated kink spoilers: (I honestly can't believe I wrote this, you guys...) In a flashback scene, Credence shoves Percival to the floor and fucks him hard. He continues after Percival has climaxed, leading to painful overstimulation, at this point he offers to stop and Percival tells him to keep going. He then accidentally uses magic to essentially force Percival to climax again (this part was NOT negotiated prior to having sex; Percival is damn happy about it mainly because it confirms that Credence is a wizard, but it was not previously established as a Thing They Knew Would Happen, hence the under-negotiated kink tag). After the sex Credence experiments with magic again and uses his newfound powers to heal Percival of any injuries caused during sex. Again, this is enjoyed by all parties involved and there's nothing dub con-y about it. TBH you guys I don't even know if this NEEDS to be a TW...I'm probably just being over-cautious here.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Every Bone in my Back Shivered Up and Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did someone order a sex marathon? Well you're in luck ;)</p><p>TWs for this chapter:<br/>-Literally this chap is NOTHING BUT SEX so if you're not here for the E-rated goodness, feel free to give this one a miss<br/>-I've kind of outdone myself on kink for this one, too, so if you are not a fan of: overstimulation, coming dry, bondage (one brief mention of it, but it's there nonetheless), pain kink, dirty talk involving breeding/pregnancy (yes, I went there too), and actual marathon sex to the point of exhaustion...proceed with caution.<br/>-No, seriously, they *literally screw until they physically can't,* I am not exaggerating<br/>-One brief reference to past abuse, at the very end, via a mention of Credence's scars</p><p>I think that's it. As always, NO dub-con, NO coercion, all activities here are done with full consent and are very mutually enjoyed ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When they first got together, Credence couldn’t get enough of Percy. He’d kissed him like a man starved, touched him like they were going to be torn apart at any moment, fucked him with a fury that left them both shaken. And the truly incredible part was that Percy had not only taken everything Credence had to give him, but he had met him kiss for kiss, touch for touch. He seemed to crave intimacy almost as desperately as Credence did himself.</p><p><em> I love you, </em> Percy said every time they made love. Credence initially didn’t believe him. Ma had said men like them couldn’t love, they only felt sinful lust. But it didn’t take long for him to realize how incredibly wrong she had been. Percy trusted Credence wholeheartedly, repeatedly put his body and his heart into Credence’s hands and expected him not to break either. And once that realization sank in, Credence knew he was done for.</p><p><em> I love you, </em> he said when he found out he was a wizard and it was safe for them to be together. <em> I love you, </em> he said when he learned that Percy was carrying his child. <em> I love you, </em> he said the last time they saw each other, before Percy disappeared and was replaced with a man who so painfully obviously did not love him.</p><p>He thought he would never get the chance to say it again when they killed him in the subway, and he hated himself for waiting so long to say it. And now they’re together again, and he can say it as much as he likes, no one can stop him.</p><p>He still can’t believe it’s really happening. Earlier, after they met on the street, he took Percy with him while he went to retrieve Nagini from their hiding place, and then let Percy take him home. Newt, the kind-faced British man who tried to help him in the subway tunnel, was so kind to him, and kind to Nagini as well, and gladly let her stay with the occamies when she asked.</p><p>There’s something more going on, and Credence knows they’ll have to talk about it. He doesn’t care right now. All that he cares about is that at last, <em> at last, </em> he is with Percy again. </p><p>“I love you more than anything,” he tells Percy as he drags him into the bedroom and slams the door shut behind them. “And I’m going to tell you every minute of every day.”</p><p>Percy clutches him and kisses back with unbridled desperation. “I love you too,” he gasps between their mouths. “I missed you. Fuck, Credence, I <em> need </em> you.”</p><p>“You’ve got me.” Credence makes Percy’s clothes take themselves off. He pushes Percy down onto the bed and crawls on top of him—rough and quick, the way he knows Percy likes it—and sinks his teeth into his neck. Percy’s skin is salty and <em> good, </em> just how Credence remembers it, and there’s nothing stopping him from biting and sucking and <em> tasting </em> Percy as much as he wants.</p><p>“I want you to mark me,” Percy groans between harsh, biting kisses. “Turn me black and blue. I want everyone who sees us to know I fucking <em> belong to you </em> and that you will literally bend the Hades-damned laws of <em> fucking magic itself </em> if someone tries to take me away from you. Because you <em> did</em>—you <em> have—” </em></p><p>“Damn right, and I’d do it again,” Credence growls, and sinks his teeth into the base of Percy’s throat, relishing the pitchy cry of pleasure he gets in reply. “If Grindelwald were here,” he says, grinding his hips against Percy’s as he grabs both of Percy’s wrists in one hand and pins them over his head, “I would freeze him, make him wait and <em> watch me take you, </em> and then kill him where he stood.”</p><p>And he wasn’t expecting Percy to let out a sob of pleasure at that, and thrust against Credence with a near-unprecedented level of desperation, but he does, and Credence takes advantage of the moment and bites again, focusing every bit of his magic on his lover until he feels him writhe and cry out, Percy’s hips jerking uncontrollably as he comes untouched.</p><p>When he can speak again Percy chokes out, <em>“Fuck.</em> Did you just make me—with your magic?”</p><p>“I did, and I’m going to do it again.” Credence drags his nails down Percy’s chest and watches in renewed fascination as the familiar white lines appear on Percy’s skin. He smiles to himself when the repeated scratches make Percy quiver beneath him, then drops his mouth to a waiting, hard nipple and <em> bites. </em></p><p><em> “Aaaagh!” </em> Credence doesn’t have to look to know that Percy’s head is flung back, his eyes slammed shut, fists clenching the sheets. “Credence—<em>fuck—” </em></p><p>“Oh, don’t worry, I will,” Credence promises. He leans down to take another taste of Percy, tongue lightly dipping into his navel. He sinks his teeth deep into the soft skin there, relishing the agonized groan of pleasure he gets in reply. But it’s not enough, he wants <em> more, </em> wants Percy to absolutely melt beneath him. Wants him to go all soft and dazed and pliant, the way he does when Credence has made him feel so good he’s literally helpless with it.</p><p>“Sweetheart, please,” Percy moans when Credence decides to clean the come off his thighs with his tongue. “Please, I—I need to touch you, let me up—”</p><p>Credence makes no move to do so. “So…what do you want?” he asks, as if there’s any doubt that he’ll grant whatever request Percy makes of him.</p><p>Percy looks him up and down, tongue tracing his lips, eyes wild with desire. Finally with a low, heavy groan he says, “I want your cock in my mouth.”</p><p>“Mmm. If you insist,” Credence teases with a smile, and slides off Percy to sit on the edge of the bed. “Go ahead,” he says, after (very considerately, he thinks) vanishing his own clothes.</p><p>Percy immediately slides to his knees in front of Credence, swallowing audibly at the sight of his cock (which, Credence reflects somewhere in the part of his brain that hasn’t entirely shut down, will never <em> not </em> be flattering). “You don’t know how I’ve missed this,” he says with a dreamy sigh as he parts Credence’s legs and fits himself between them.</p><p>With a sudden, desperate sound rumbling in the back of his throat Percy surges forward and takes Credence into his mouth, and—<em>oh. </em> It feels even better than Credence remembers, and within seconds he is lost to sensation, surrendering with a soft moan as Percy swallows him down.</p><p>Percy is as dedicated a lover as he is an auror. He works Credence over like he’s getting paid for it, sucking him down and swallowing around him with a level of raw passion that indicates he’s getting off from it too. Credence is used to this kind of enthusiasm; Percy, by his own admission, sucks cock “like I’ve got something to prove,” and Credence is certainly not about to complain about being on the receiving end of it.</p><p>When he comes it’s so intense he thinks he might break, his entire body vibrating with the force of his orgasm. Not since their first time, he thinks, has it been like <em> this, </em> like the marrow has been sucked from his bones and the air has been punched out of his lungs, the very blood in his veins replaced with electricity. As he recovers he feels a warm hand resting on his stomach and realizes he’s lying on his back, with Percy reclining beside him propped on one arm and looking at him like he’s the most incredible thing Percy has ever seen. </p><p>Credence remembers how vulnerable he used to feel when Percy touched him and looked at him with such adoration, how he’d push Percy away—<em>I’m not special, don’t look at me like that I don’t deserve it, stop calling me beautiful I know you don’t mean it. </em> But now…now, all he can think about is how lucky he is to be so deeply loved.</p><p>Credence pounces, knocking Percy back and relishing the surprised <em> oof! </em> he draws from his lover. “I’m not done with you yet,” he warns (or promises) with a smile, as he pins Percy to the bed again.</p><p>“Didn’t think you were,” Percy assures him with a laugh, and then Credence’s mouth is on him again and the laughter quickly turns to moans, and—yeah, no, they won’t be done for a while.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Percival flings his head back so hard it hits the wall. <em> “Ahhh! </em> Credence!”</p><p>Sharp teeth dig into the skin over his collarbone, and Credence licks over the bite and up his neck before hissing in his ear, “That good, huh?” </p><p>They’re up against the wall. Literally—Credence has used his magic to float them off the bed, and pinned Percival to the wall over the headboard, wrists held above his head as Credence fucks him with everything he’s got, the pictures and chandelier rattling as he is rammed into the wall over and over. </p><p>Were Percival in his right mind he’d hope that they remembered to cast a silencing charm before they went at it, but right now he’s too dazed with pleasure to care.</p><p>“I’m going to knock you up again”—this as Credence sinks his teeth into the base of Percival’s throat, on the downstroke of a particularly hard thrust—“I’m going to put another baby in you. You want that? You want me to fuck you until it takes, until you’re swollen and round and everyone knows it’s <em> my child </em> in your belly?”</p><p>“Fuck! <em> Yes! </em> Fucking do it, come in me, fill me up—” He throws back his head again and hits the wall, it <em> hurts, </em> but of course that’s part of the appeal to Percival. Lights burst in front of his eyes as Credence pounds into him harder, every thrust hitting him right where it counts until he’s literally whimpering with the need to come. “Please, sweetheart, <em> please—” </em></p><p>“Oh, but you <em> like </em> it when I leave you wanting,” Credence purrs in his ear, pausing to nip at the curve of his neck before continuing, “You <em> like </em> when I make you wait, when I make you <em> desperate…</em>don’t you?”</p><p><em> “Credence,” </em> he begs, head falling back again, a broken cry escaping his lips when Credence pinches his nipple so hard it hurts. Merlin, but Credence <em> so </em> knows how to work him.</p><p>It should not, some tiny smart part of his brain reminds him, be <em> possible </em> for him to get off right now. He is sixteen years older than Credence and does <em> not </em> have the refractory period of a twenty-three-year-old, and they’ve been doing this for <em> hours. </em> It’s their…third round, maybe? Their fourth? He’s not sure, he’s lost all track of time and space and everything that isn’t Credence.</p><p>Credence is now close to his own climax; his thrusts have lost rhythm and he’s gasping for breath too. “I’m going to come in you,” he tells Percival through gritted teeth. “Going to fill you up—going to make you carry my babies, and you’re going to <em> let me, </em> aren’t you?”</p><p>“Yes, fuck, <em> yes, </em> sweetheart, knock me up, make me yours—”</p><p>“Percy—oh God—<em> Percy—” </em> Credence’s eyes roll up as he comes. The grip on Percival’s wrists tightens, nails digging into the skin, and it’s that last beautiful little stab of pain—combined with the delicious sensation of Credence’s hot release spilling inside him—that puts Percival over the edge.</p><p>He comes harder than should be possible, his entire body screaming with an all-consuming cocktail of pain and pleasure, every muscle tensing into a single solid mass before he slumps boneless into Credence’s waiting arms. He knows the noises he’s making probably sound like he’s being tortured. He doesn’t care. This feels so good he thinks he may actually die of it.</p><p>“I love you,” he cries into his lover’s hair as they fall back to the mattress together in a tangle of sweaty limbs. He pulls Credence to his chest and wraps both arms around him, tears streaking down his face, his heart tripping and his entire body quivering with exhaustion and adrenaline and pure raw emotion. “I can’t fucking live without you, I swear to Hades, Credence, if you leave me again I’ll die.”</p><p>“I won’t,” Credence promises, sounding close to tears himself. He buries his face in Percival’s neck and holds on for all he’s worth. “I love you. I love you. <em> I will never leave you again. </em> Never.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>“We need to talk about tomorrow…you don’t know everything that’s been going on…”</p><p>“Percy, I’ve read the papers, okay? I know <em> he’s </em> on the loose.”</p><p>“Oh, love. If only that were the only problem. You’re…well…nothing to do but say it, I guess: you’re a wanted man.”</p><p>“You think I don’t know that? Like I said, I’ve read the papers…is it going to be very bad when they catch me? Is it…is it going to be like the subway? Are they going to—”</p><p>“Over my <em> fucking </em> dead body, sweetheart. No. <em> Never. </em> I have amnesty here, you see…Picquery wanted me extradited for questioning about Grindelwald, but the Ministry protected me. Tina is trying to get the same deal for you.”</p><p>“But…but I <em> killed </em> people.”</p><p>“That wasn’t really you, darling, and we’ll make sure they know it. And you’re too useful for the Ministry to kill you. They think Grindelwald is looking for you. They might try to use you to get to him, but if they ask you for that, promise me you won’t—”</p><p>“I’ll do it.”</p><p>“Credence, <em> no. </em> He’s dangerous, you don’t know—”</p><p>“I know what he did to you, and I know what he tried to do to me, and I know it’s not entirely on President Picquery that Macusa tried to kill me, because he set me up to die. And I know for absolute certain that if the Ministry <em> didn’t </em> ask me, I’d go after him anyway.”</p><p>“Merlin, no. Don’t do this to me, I’m begging you…if I lose you again, I’ll—”</p><p>“You won’t lose me. I know how to protect myself now. And besides…if I do this, they won’t keep coming after me. I can belong to you, really belong to you, we can have a baby and we can have a <em> life, </em> if that’s what you want.”</p><p>“Oh, sweetheart. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You know that.”</p><p>“Then let me do this, Percy. Let me be the person you deserve. <em> Please.” </em></p><p>“…damn it, I never could say no to you. All right. <em> All right. </em> Listen, I won’t lie, this is going to be scary. But I’m going to be there the whole time. I won’t let them hurt you. I promise you, love, no one will touch you without your express permission.”</p><p>“It’s all right. I believe you. I trust you, and I love you, and I <em> know </em> you won’t let anything happen to me.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>“Show me,” Credence whispers sometime later, “what it’s like for you.”</p><p>Percy stills, his mouth detaching from Credence’s thigh with a sucking <em> pop, </em> and looks up through his mussed hair in shock. “You—are you saying what I think you are?”</p><p>Credence sits up so he can run his fingers through Percy’s new, longer hair. He likes it like this. Makes it easier to pull and tug on it when they make love, which he knows Percy really likes. “You like it when I fuck you,” he says patiently. “I’d like to know why.”</p><p>Percy swallows hard. “I’ve never—<em>fuck, </em> Credence. I’ve never topped anyone before,” he admits, eyes darting away, face flushed a telling red.</p><p>Credence shrugs that off, because really, that obstacle is <em> nothing </em> to what they’ve been through already. “So? You know I’ve never bottomed before. It’s okay. We can figure it out together…if you want to,” he adds, and relishes the dazed look he gets in reply.</p><p>They take it slow, kissing for what feels like hours before Percy carefully slides a hand between Credence’s legs and traces his opening with trepidation. He whispers something and his hand is coated in slick, which he uses to cautiously, very gently push in a single finger. “This part isn’t supposed to be painful,” he tells Credence anxiously. “If I hurt you—”</p><p>“You aren’t hurting me, Percy. It’s fine. I trust you,” Credence assures him, and then a minute later, as Percy slides in a second finger and hits something that makes him see stars— <em> “Oh. </em> Oh, that feels good.”</p><p>“Does it?” Percy works him slowly, two fingers crooking and pumping and scissoring, trying to open him up gently, and he seems quite pleased with himself for making Credence writhe.</p><p>Credence shouldn’t be surprised by that. Percy loves to give him pleasure; he’s made that obvious from day one. This is the first time he’s let Percy do anything like <em> this, </em> however, and the implications are not lost on either of them.</p><p>“I think I see why you like this now,” Credence manages in a strangled tone as Percy slides his fingers in and out, pushing in a third and settling into a steady rhythm.</p><p>“Mmm,” Percy agrees with a knowing little smirk. “I guess I’m doing it right, then?”</p><p>Credence answers that obviously superfluous question by arching up like he’s been shocked and coming with a drawn-out cry. He slumps back to the bed, eyes wide and breath coming in wheezing pants, as Percy leans down and—<em>oh fuck how is it even possible to get hard again this fast?</em>—cleans him with his tongue.</p><p>“Holy mother of God,” Credence moans when he can breathe again. “Is it—is it <em> always </em> like that?”</p><p>“Oh, love, you haven’t seen anything yet.” Percy rolls them over and settles Credence on top of him, casting the spells to slick them both up again and gently maneuvering Credence to poise him over his cock. “It’ll give you more control this way. You can take it at any speed or depth you want it. I know you aren’t quite as fond of pain as I am,” he adds with an understanding little grin.</p><p>“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Credence sinks down slowly, carefully, letting himself get used to the feeling of being filled one inch at a time. <em> “Ohhh,” </em> he moans, letting his head tip back in bliss, when Percy is at last all the way inside him. “Oh, now I <em> really </em> get it…oh God…Percy, you feel so—so <em> good…” </em></p><p>Percy seems pretty caught up in the feeling himself, staring at Credence through wide eyes as he slowly begins to move up and down. “You’re…oh, you’re so warm…<em> oh… </em> so tight and <em> wet, </em> Mercy Lewis, I didn’t think…” His eyes roll up as Credence sets a faster pace. <em> “Ohhh…</em>you’re so beautiful like this, my love, so incredible…oh, <em> sweetheart…” </em></p><p><em> “Percy…</em>oh <em> God, </em> yes!”</p><p>“Fuck, I’m close love, please—”</p><p>“Oh…<em>oh!” </em></p><p>“Credence, <em> fuck!” </em></p><p>They spiral together, and when Credence comes down from the high he sees tears in his lover’s eyes. “You’re amazing,” Percy breathes, staring at him through awestruck eyes, his hand trembling as he reaches up to cup Credence’s face in his palm.</p><p>“So are you.” Credence snuggles up against Percy’s chest and inhales the delicious, musky scent of his skin. “I’ll never stop loving you,” he promises, and is rewarded with the sound of Percy all but sobbing his name as he clutches Credence to his chest like he’s something precious.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to die of dehydration,” Percival warns Credence around 4:00 AM.</p><p>He’s facedown on the bed, hands glued to the headboard with magic, Credence kneeling between his spread legs. After Credence made the huge emotional leap of allowing himself to be fucked, Percival thought maybe he could let Credence eat him out—something he usually prefers to do to his lovers, rather than the other way round—but he didn’t think they’d get around to it <em> tonight. </em></p><p>Percival has had marathon sex before, sure, but he hasn’t done anything this strenuous in <em> years. </em> He has completely and totally lost track of all the different ways they’ve had each other tonight. He’s sore and so stretched out Credence doesn’t even have to prep him anymore, and at this point when Credence manages to wrench an orgasm out of Percival with magic, he comes dry.</p><p>He has no actual clue how Credence can even still <em>move.</em> If he had to guess, Percival would probably think it’s something to do with the obscurial. Some healing magic or deep reserves of magical energy. Whatever it is, it’s irrelevant. Point is: Percival is more tired and sore than he’s ever been in his life, and Credence <em>still</em> hasn’t run out of energy yet.</p><p>Now, to be fair, Percival thinks that dying of dehydration is probably a stretch…but only because it’s more likely that he’ll die of exhaustion first.</p><p>And yet the thought of stopping doesn’t occur to him. His body is crying out, begging him to stop, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to gobble up his entire future in this one night. He wants everything Credence will give him, he wants to give himself to Credence entirely in return, and he doesn’t care how much it hurts him. He doesn’t think he’ll <em> actually </em> die from this, but if he does, well, there are worse ways to go than being fucked out by the most beautiful boy in the world.</p><p>Credence kisses a gentle trail down his back. “I’ll feed you,” he promises. “You can stay here. I’ll sneak downstairs and get us food and water. But you can’t go anywhere while I’m gone.”</p><p>“Sweetheart, I can’t—<em>ah!</em>—I can’t move,” Percival tells him, and then the rest of his words are lost to an agonized groan as Credence’s tongue makes a broad sweep of his stretched, aching hole.</p><p>Credence does nothing halfway. He fucks Percival with his tongue as eagerly as he does with his cock, and within seconds Percival is writhing and begging for more even though he’s so sore and so tired he has no idea how he hasn’t passed out yet.</p><p>“You’re going to fucking kill me, sweetheart,” he moans as Credence pulls back and plunges two slicked fingers into him, mercilessly zeroing in on his prostate. “Ah—Credence—<em>please!” </em></p><p>Credence obligingly withdraws his fingers, only to flip him over and draw both of Percival’s knees up to his chest. “One more time, lovely,” he coaxes softly, and Percival lets his eyes flutter shut, a helpless moan escaping as Credence slides into him. “And then we’ll rest. Just let me come inside you one more time and we’re done, I promise.”</p><p>“Don’t—don’t want to be done,” Percival stutters out in a weak sigh as he feels Credence moving inside him. It hurts, it hurts, <em>fuck</em> it hurts but it’s so <em>good.</em> “Want you—<em>oooh</em>—want you to fuck me until I pass out.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Credence moves faster, gently drawing his nails down Percival’s side. Usually this would make him writhe, but the best he can manage now is a sort of faint twitch. “Want me to keep going until you literally can’t move, is that it? Want me to keep magically making you come until you <em> hurt?” </em></p><p><em> “Unnnhhh,” </em> is Percival’s oh-so-eloquent reply, his eyes rolling up as Credence hits his prostate with a particularly hard thrust. “Yes, <em> fuck, </em> please, take everything from me, sweetheart, I’m yours—”</p><p>“You <em> are, </em> you’re mine,” Credence groans, picking up the pace, “you’re mine, all mine, Percy, you’re <em> mine—” </em></p><p>“Fill me,” Percival urges him, letting his head fall back so Credence can leave one last painful love bite on his neck, “come in me, knock me up, show everyone I belong to you.”</p><p>Credence comes inside him with a cry, and slumps forward over his chest like a broken puppet. Percival receives him with limp arms, so exhausted he can barely stroke Credence’s sweat-slick back. He’s so fucking tired, but gods above and below, if Credence even <em> hints </em> at wanting another round, Percy will gladly acquiesce. He’ll do anything, truly anything, if Credence asks him to.</p><p>He feels something moving through him, steady and gentle and almost tickling. Credence’s magic, again, he realizes as the soft, fluttering pleasure concentrates low in his belly. With a trembling sigh he gives in, letting Credence bring him to one last weak, quivering semblance of a climax. Credence hums in satisfaction as he feels Percival tense and then relax against him. “So good, Percy,” he murmurs against his neck. “You’re so good to me, love you so much…”</p><p>“Mmm. You too, sweetheart.” </p><p>Percival knew long before tonight that he would give Credence anything he wanted. Well, tonight he got the chance to prove it. Even now he knows that if Credence wanted to go again, he would. If Credence put a knife to his heart and asked to carve it out, Percival wouldn’t put up the slightest bit of a fight.</p><p>It should scare him, the depth and magnitude of his love for Credence. It doesn’t. He knows now how it feels to be without Credence, and he’s far more afraid of that than his all-encompassing love for the boy.</p><p>Credence, as promised, takes care of him. He props Percival up on every pillow he can find, lovingly cleans the sweat and spend from his body with a warm cloth, soothes his sore muscles with a healing charm, holds a water bottle to his lips and whispers sweet nothings as he feeds him bites of fruit and cheese scrounged from Newt’s kitchen. And then he lays down beside Percival and they rest, tangled up in a mess of sheets they’re both too tired to straighten out.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>They make love one last time before dawn, a slow-burning tender moment that happens only after they’ve napped and cuddled and whispered painfully heartfelt confessions of love to each other. Stirred by the closeness of their bodies, spurred on by the renewed understanding that they were <em> so close </em> to losing all of this, they move together under the tangled sheets and press open-mouthed kisses to each other’s skin until they fall apart in a quivering mess, clutching each other as if it’s their last night together.</p><p>“I never want to leave your side again,” Percival tells Credence in a hoarse whisper as they lie loosely entwined in each other’s arms, too tired to do much more than look at each other.</p><p>“Never is a long time.” Credence reaches out with a weak hand to brush sweaty strands of hair from Percival’s eyes. “But you know what?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Credence does something unprecedented, and rolls over so that he can press his back to Percival’s chest. Percival closes his eyes, tears threatening to spill over: Credence hates to turn his back to anyone, and up to now, even Percival has not been exempt from that policy. But now he turns around and snuggles up to Percival like he’s been doing it all his life, and it’s too dark to see the scars but they both know the scars are <em> there, </em> and the impact of the moment slams in to Percival with the force of a runaway train.</p><p>“I don’t ever want to leave you again either,” Credence says, and the moment is so perfect Percival forgets to breathe. He can feel Credence’s scars against his skin, and Credence’s heartbeat under his palm, and his body is so sore and he is so tired he can’t move, but he has never felt better in his life.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>...listen, I warned y'all this story was eventually going to devolve into a Hot And Spicy Smut Bucket, didn't I? ;P</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Every Hand Let Me Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AAAAAND I'M BAAACK :D :D :D</p><p>I did NOT forget about or abandon this story, as you can see. Kinktober, y'all. Frickin' Kinktober. NEVER AGAIN I TELL YOU *eyeroll*</p><p>SO. We're back with our boys after a long hiatus! ^_^ This chapter took me forever to write. I will own here and now that a lot of the courtroom drama is pretty much made up out of wholecloth, with no actual regard to the way JKR treats wizarding justice in canon. (Because really, at this point, who cares about canon anyway?)</p><p>TWs for this chapter:<br/>-General reminder that this story involves recovery after a miscarriage with ensuing grief/mourning<br/>-Lots and LOTS of discussion on mental health; a character is sent to a group home for therapy<br/>See end notes for TW spoilers :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The British Ministry isn’t quite as huge and confusing as the American one, and for that Credence is deeply grateful. And it helps that this time he isn’t trying to find his way around on his own. He’s got Percy right by his side, and Newt and Tina on his other. Newt is his “creature expert,” Tina his “advocate.” They are here to keep him from getting a harsh sentence for his crimes.</p><p>He is introduced in Percy’s office to Newt’s brother Theseus, who writes up his intake papers and tells him, “You have to go to holding. I’ll send Graves to get you when it’s time for you to be processed for your hearing, but right now you’ll have to pick one of them,” he nods to Tina and Newt, “to come with you.”</p><p>Tina puts her hand on his shoulder. “Newt will stay with you,” she tells him gently. “I need to be in on the ground. Make sure I hear anything and everything. We absolutely can’t afford any surprises.”</p><p>Percy looks stricken. “I’m not allowed to accompany him to holding?”</p><p>“No,” Theseus tells him patiently, “and technically you shouldn’t even be here. You’re too close to this case and you know it…but I’m still going to send you when we have to process him. Memory retrieval might scare him and I’d much rather the building stay intact, and I figure you’re our best bet at that, so…”</p><p>“I’m not going to attack anyone,” Credence tells him. “Not unless they give me a reason to, anyway. Please tell me the President isn’t here.”</p><p>“Picquery? Nah, only if they take you to a full international trial, which they won’t. Trust me, the Ministry does not want this in the papers.” Theseus slaps a thin golden bracelet around his wrist. “There, you’re tagged. We’ll know where you are in the building now. Doubt that’ll keep you from transforming, but at least we’ll know where to hunt for survivors.”</p><p>“I’m not going to attack anyone,” Credence repeats exasperatedly. He looks to Percy, who still looks like he’s on the verge of a heart attack. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Percy forces a smile. “Fantastic.” He winces and adds, “Sore, but. You know.”</p><p>“Definitely don’t need the details, thanks,” Theseus grins. He turns to Credence and exaggeratedly winks and mouths, <em> nice work! </em> Tina and Newt can’t suppress their laughter. Percy looks extremely put out.</p><p>The holding cells are nicer than the ones at MACUSA, and Newt is allowed to sit on the other side of the bars and talk to him. “No one is going to hurt you. Not on Tina’s watch, certainly,” he assures Credence. “She knows the law better than anyone save Theseus. She’ll make sure you get a fair shake.”</p><p>“I technically did kill people,” Credence reminds him.</p><p><em> “You </em> didn’t. <em> That thing </em> did. And once they see it’s under control—well, honestly, they’ll use you. I know they will. But Percival will help with that, too. He’s in charge of the manhunt for Grindelwald now, so—”</p><p>“I want to help,” Credence interrupts. “He killed our baby. I want to <em> hurt him.” </em></p><p>“I’m sure the Ministry will be glad to have your help. Especially if they think you think it’s your idea.”</p><p>“It <em> is </em> my idea. I want to go after him.” Credence means it, too. If he’d met Grindelwald on the way to find Percy, the man would already be dead. “He hurt Percy and he killed our baby and he almost got me killed too. I’d say that’s more than enough motive.”</p><p>For what reason Credence doesn’t understand, that makes Newt smile. “Oh, I can’t wait until they let you loose in the field. I’ll tell you what, Theseus is going to really like you…”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Theseus takes a long time debriefing Percival on how the day will go. Credence will be have to go to Memory Retrieval, and so will Percival. That will be critical as well: it should, in theory, prove that when he first began to feel the effects of his obscurus Credence has no memory of his transformations, and that he had no intention of murdering anyone. </p><p>Then he’ll be taken to processing, where they’ll draw up the papers documenting the important details of his detainment—namely, and this is crucial, that he voluntarily surrendered, and came to them in good faith. Then he will be interviewed by the Minister of Justice. Percival will not be allowed to be there for that. He’s sick to his stomach just thinking about it. </p><p>Finally: the hearing. He can be there for that, but if it goes badly, it will be the last time, he thinks, that he will ever see Credence. “What’s going to happen if he’s…charged?” he asks quietly, when Theseus has finished outlining it all.</p><p>“Well, you know muggle-killing for sport gets the Kiss. But”—this as Percival lets out a punched-out sound of despair—“we all know that’s not what happened here. This kid isn’t one of <em> his. </em> Your memories and his will prove that. And even if he’s found guilty, Tina won’t let them get away with anything cruel.”</p><p>“Your definition of cruel or mine? For instance, are we going to keep in mind that Credence was literally tortured every day for the first twenty years of his life? Or that your country’s idea of a humane sentence is to <em> destroy a person’s soul?” </em></p><p>Theseus sighs heavily. “I understand your concern. But there is a full team of people here working to make sure we <em> all </em> reach the best possible outcome.” He pauses and then says carefully, “And I need you to understand, the best possible outcome for Credence might not look like him going home with you tonight. I need to hear you say that you’re not going to fight us if it comes to that.”</p><p>Percival’s heart stops. “You can’t—” He can barely get the words out. “If you send him there—you can’t lock him up with <em> those things, </em> Theo, he’ll—”</p><p>“Oh!” Theseus suddenly looks stricken. “Oh, no, <em> I’ll </em> fight it if they try to send him to Azkaban, of course! I only meant they may want him hospitalized, or in protective custody. I <em> want </em> you two to be together, you know that, but you may need to give him up for now. Not permanently,” he quickly adds, because Percival must look as awful and terrified as he feels. “But if the court decides to send him to, say, the closed ward of St. Mungo’s and you lose it, it’ll make things a lot worse…not just for you, but for him too. You understand?”</p><p>Percival does not understand, not really. The best place for Credence to be is with him. The obscurus never came out to play until fucking Grindelwald came along and messed with his sweet boy’s head. “If they try to take him away from me—”</p><p>“Okay, stop right there,” Theseus cuts him off. “No one is <em> taking him away from you, </em> Perce—Merlin, it’s not like that.” He looks Percival over critically and Percival realizes, with a jolt of mingled exasperation and dread, that his hand is on his belly, <em> again, </em> as if to protect a child that of course does not exist. “You did <em> not </em> get yourself knocked up again.”</p><p>“No,” Percival quickly assures him. “It’s just habit.” He forces his hand to drop. Theseus is still watching him closely. “Can I go get him now?” he asks to change the subject, well aware of how impatient he sounds.</p><p>Theseus doesn’t look pleased, at all. “I really don’t know what to make of the fact that Credence is taking all of this better than you,” he says, but ultimately he does let Percival go and collect Credence from the holding cell.</p><p>Newt has done a fantastic job of keeping Credence calm, but he does look immensely relieved when Percival comes to let him out. Percival briefly gives them both a rundown, sends Newt off to alert Tina, and holds Credence’s hand tightly as they go down the hall to Memory Retrieval. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Newt was good to you, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, I like him.” Credence tilts his head against Percival’s shoulder as they walk. “I don’t like not knowing what’s going to happen,” he adds with a little shiver, and Percival knows he’s thinking of the death chamber at MACUSA.</p><p>“No one is going to hurt you here,” he promises. <em> Because I will immediately, violently murder anyone who tries. </em></p><p>Credence freezes when he sees the memory-retrieval station, and Percival immediately understands why: even though the chair is padded and soft instead of metal, and the lab attendants wear pale-pink coats instead of white, it <em> does </em> look a little similar to the Execution Room. “It’s all right, love,” he assures Credence. “They’re just going to check out some memories, they aren’t going to kill us.”</p><p>He has the techs do him first, to show Credence that there’s nothing to be afraid of here. Just a quick spell to knock him out, keep his mind relaxed while the memories are extracted, duplicated and replaced, and then they wake him up and that’s it. Credence says afterward that it wasn’t so bad, and Percival has to force himself to keep a neutral face. <em>Oh, Credence. Just you wait and see...it gets worse.</em></p><p>He can’t stop thinking about what Theseus said, and he can’t stop the hand that isn’t holding Credence’s from holding and rubbing his stomach at random moments. He doesn’t want to think about what will happen if he has to watch his sweet boy get taken away from him again.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Credence doesn’t like processing, at all. The official behind the desk keeps snapping at him when he looks to Percy (“I’m asking <em> you, </em> not him, this isn’t a multiple-choice exam!”) and they keep asking him questions he doesn’t know how to answer. All he understands is 1) he’s voluntarily letting himself be arrested and 2) he runs the risk of being thrown in jail if he gets this wrong.</p><p>“So you agree,” the official says finally, “that you are coming here of your own free will and submitting yourself for judgment, sentencing, and possible corrective treatment, in good faith, with no intention of performing harmful acts against the State, and hereby agree to abide by whatever correctional action is taken by the Minister of Magic?”</p><p>Credence resists the urge to look at Percy again before he says, “Um, I think so?”</p><p>Percy sighs in what sounds like actual relief behind him, so he must’ve gotten it right. “The whole point of that,” Percy explains as they wait for another official to collect him for his interview, “was to basically make sure that, first of all, you didn’t come here on behalf of, say, Grindelwald, and second, that you aren’t going to blow up the courtroom if you get a sentence you don’t like.”</p><p>“How many times do I have to tell you guys, I’m <em> not going to blow anything up,” </em> Credence says, unable to hold back his exasperation. “I don’t blow things up anymore. I have it under control.” He proudly tells Percy how he found out that Percy was working for the Ministry, and how he can partially let out the obscurus now—two things he’s never been able to do before.</p><p>“Very nice,” Percy teases him in a whisper, “but can you use your magic for anything outside the bedroom?”</p><p>Credence blushes but sasses him right back, “Can you use yours for anything other than shooting bad guys?”</p><p>“Fair,” Percy agrees with a smile, and then blanches when Theseus, Tina, and a very stern-faced platinum-haired woman in black robes come down the hall towards them. “Madam Malfoy,” he greets her anxiously. “I guess it’s no use asking to make sure he’s returned in one piece?”</p><p>“That will be up to your obscurial, Auror Graves,” she replies coolly. Credence hastily gets to his feet to greet her—Ma would shoot him if she knew he’d forgotten his manners—and nearly trips over his feet in the process. A tiny smile quirks the corners of her lips. “There’s no need to be so nervous, child. Your friend there is just being his usual hysterical self.”</p><p>“Hey,” Percy protests, one hand coming to rest on Credence’s shoulder. “I’m not <em> hysterical, </em> you don’t know what he’s been through, you—”</p><p>“Overprotective is the word I’d use,” Credence breaks in, and the stern woman actually lets out the briefest laugh. “I’m ready, ma’am. Whenever you are.”</p><p>“So polite,” she praises him, and then narrows her eyes at Percy. “And if I find out you’ve tailed us to the interrogation room—”</p><p>“Don’t give me reason to,” Percy says through gritted teeth, but his voice is exceedingly gentle when he tells Credence, “I’ll be waiting right here when you’re done, love. Don’t be scared. Just tell her the truth.”</p><p>That proves rather complicated over the next few hours as Credence has to tell Madam Malfoy every part of his story in increasingly painful and intense detail. The problem is that he doesn’t really know <em> how </em> his powers work and he has to tell her, repeatedly, that no, he isn’t sure how he managed to gain control over the obscurus or whether or not he’s reached the extent of what it can do. He says, “I’m sorry, I don’t know,” about eighty times over the next three hours.</p><p>The last question is the one that hits the hardest. “All right. One last thing…do you know at what point Auror Graves was replaced by Grindelwald?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I think…well. It was definitely after he told me about the baby.” The words bring a lump to his throat. “He changed. I should have known…”</p><p>“Did you know, or at least, did you suspect?” she asks point-blank.</p><p>Credence sighs heavily. “I don’t know,” he admits, and he sees the look of horror on Tina’s face, but he can’t bring himself to backtrack. “I didn’t know much about wizards then. I didn’t know it was possible to wear someone’s face, but…” He sighs again and looks down to his lap. Tears sting his eyes at the memory. “I thought maybe he was upset to be pregnant. That he’d thought about it and wanted a better father for his baby, or that…that he’d realized how useless I was. Or that he just plain didn’t love me anymore.”</p><p>He hears a soft choked noise from the corner and looks up to see that Theseus, Percy’s strong brave friend from the war, looks like he’s about to cry too. Seeing that, knowing he’s not the only one hurting at the thought of Percy <em> changing </em> like that, he finds it in him to go on, “I knew it wasn’t him anymore when he hit me in the church…he’d promised he would never hurt me. So I knew then, but I still didn’t know <em> who </em> it was. We have no-maj legends, changelings, we’d call them, or—well, my ma might’ve said he was possessed by Satan, or a demon. I knew something happened. I just…don’t think I had the words to explain it yet.”</p><p>“I see.” Madam Malfoy stood up, signalling the end of the interview. “Well. I will tell the court about what we’ve discussed here today…we’ll see how it all shakes out at your hearing. But I like what I’ve heard. I think with some care and training you could be a great asset to the Ministry.” She looks to Tina. “Do you have anything to add?”</p><p>Tina shakes her head. “Nothing much. I’d request confinement to a home environment, but I have a feeling the jury will lean that way anyway. That, or perhaps confinement to a school…Graves won’t like that, but it could do a world of good, having Credence get some proper education.”</p><p>“Very well. We’ll take all of that into account. Mr. Barebone, we will expect you in the courtroom for your hearing at three o’clock today, that should be sufficient time for you to rest and prepare.”</p><p>Credence is not at all sure about that. After staying up all night with Percy night before last his sleep schedule has been all messed up; he barely slept last night and he woke up early this morning and God, he’s tired. But he gamely goes back down the hall to where he knows his very concerned lover is waiting for him and lets himself be caught up in those strong arms, fortified by Percy’s soft whispers of <em> you’re so brave, you’re so beautiful, I love you Credence, I love you so much. </em></p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Credence seems far too calm—resigned, maybe—about his hearing for Percival’s taste. “The witch who interviewed me seemed convinced I was telling the truth,” he says as they take their seats. “Tina said they might send me to school.”</p><p>He seems very nonchalant about it and Percival just about chokes on his tongue. “They’re going to send you away?” he says sharply, and Credence just blinks at him, owl-like, and Percival’s heart wrenches. “They didn’t drug you, did they?”</p><p>“Not that I know of. Anyway, I’m okay with it if that happens. I’d rather go to school than jail.” Credence tilts his head down to rest on Percival’s shoulder. “I’m tired. Hold me?” Of course Percival obliges, his heart hammering against his ribs as it sinks in that this may be the last chance he has to do so.</p><p><em> Please, </em> he prays to any of the gods above or below who might be listening, <em> please, don’t take him away from me again. </em></p><p>The hearing goes well, or it seems to, anyway. Credence is called up first to tell his story, and he does. The memories extracted earlier are closely examined and it is determined that he is not lying, that he once couldn’t control or remember his transformations but he can now. The one sticking point they seem to have is that he didn’t flee America because he was afraid of Picquery, but because he wanted to find Percival. It takes Newt’s testimony that obscurials are actually 99% human to convince the Minister that Credence is, in fact, capable of feeling love.</p><p>Percival is called to testify, and thanks every deity and fate that Theseus is the one to question him; Theseus will be gentle. And he is. Percival is asked to confirm things that happen in his memories, to testify that Credence has never hurt him. A blood test is done on the spot to prove he is not under the effects of a love potion; a legilimens is brought it to affirm he is not under the Imperius Curse. </p><p>Ultimately it is concluded that Credence, when not under the influence of a manipulative genocidal freak, is in fact a mostly healthy and stable young man who simply didn’t have a chance to let his powers develop naturally. For a moment, a brief, shining moment, Percival feels hopeful that they will let him take Credence home, and that everything will be all right…</p><p>And then comes the blow. “Here’s my concern,” the judge, a bespectacled, graying man whom Percival doesn’t know. “You were not under orders from Grindelwald when you went after those muggles, correct? He at no point ordered you to go after the senator, or after your own mother and sister.”</p><p>“No, sir.” Credence looks to him innocently. “I wasn’t aware I was an obscurus at the time. I couldn’t have done it on purpose even if he had ordered me.”</p><p>“And you seem to be in control of it now. Yet I cannot deny the risk of allowing a powerful, very damaged young wizard with negligent education, with the ability to level cities to the ground, complete freedom,” the judge says gravely.</p><p>Percival’s blood turns to ice. <em> No. No, he’s not going to…he can’t… </em></p><p>“Given the testimony of young Mr. Scamander, however, as well as the assertions from all corners that you are when not controlled by that—by that <em> thing, </em> a very kind and gentle young man with no natural inclination towards violence, I think the only sensible thing to do…”</p><p>Percival holds his breath. <em> Please, don’t do this. Please, don’t take him. </em></p><p>“…is to have you, Mr. Barebone, complete rehabilitative therapy at one of our home facilities for half-breed or partially-human magical beings. This will take as little as six months or as long as two years; it is largely dependent on your progress and your behavior. Now, during this time of course you will be very closely monitored, carefully trained and educated, and provided treatment for any mental or physical deficits caused by your turbulent upbringing.” He nods to Tina. “I hope the defendant’s advocate is satisfied with this recommendation?”</p><p>
  <em> Say no. Say no. Please, say no. Demand they release him. He’s not dangerous, he’s not, please Tina, don’t do this, don’t let them— </em>
</p><p>Tina rises and addresses the judge. With a grave nod she says, “This was exactly the outcome we hoped for, sir. Thank you very much for being so reasonable.”</p><p>“Then the court shall adjourn. Auror Scamander will see to the rest of today’s business. By seven o’clock tonight we will have arranged accommodations for the obscurial at…”</p><p>Percival doesn’t hear the rest. He stares at Credence, who looks relieved to the point of serenity. <em> Why don’t you care? </em> he wonders helplessly. <em> Does it matter at all to you that they’re taking you away from me for at least half a year? </em></p><p>Some part of him, the part that used to be the stoic, rational Director of Magical Security for MACUSA, knows this <em> is </em> the best outcome. That Credence does desperately need magical education and treatment for the effects, mental and physical, of his time with Mary Lou and Grindelwald. Credence is thin and pale, and a few months in a facility with trained healers and care far better than what Percival can provide for him will likely do him a world of good.</p><p>Pericval knows this. And yet all he can think as he stands there, one hand desperately clutching his stomach, is that he can’t survive the next few months without Credence in his bed, in his <em> life. </em></p><p>Credence comes flying into his arms, practically leaping over the divide between the judge’s bench and the spectators’ seats in the hurry to get to him. “Did you hear him,” he breathes into Percival’s ear. “It’s <em> all right, </em> they didn’t arrest me, they don’t want to kill me like the president did, they—wait—” He draws back and looks intently at Percy. “You look upset, why are you upset?”</p><p>“I’m fine.” Percy hastily forces a smile. “It’s just going to be—hard—to not be with you the next few months.”</p><p>Credence looks surprised, and Newt, who has been hovering, quickly explains the concept of a halfway house, which is essentially where Credence will be living for the next six months at least. He won’t be in a cell, but he’ll hardly be free to come and go and visitors will have to be approved. “The only people you’ll be allowed to see at first will be myself and Tina and perhaps Theseus,” he adds, and Credence pales.</p><p>“But—Percy,” he says plaintively, suddenly uncertain and clingy again.</p><p>Percy wraps both arms around him, simultaneously aching to see Credence upset and relieved that he isn’t the only one who’s going to be affected by their impending separation. “It’ll be all right,” he says, back in protection mode. “I’ll write you letters, lots of them, and—”</p><p>Suddenly it hits him. His own words from when he was talking to Jacob and Queenie: <em> the English magical community sees family as a sacred bond. </em> </p><p>He’s not quite mastered every single law of magical England yet, he hasn’t been here long enough…but he knows this: unless the circumstances are extreme, it’s considered inhumane to refuse visitation to spouses and family.</p><p>“Credence,” he says suddenly. “There’s a way. But it’s—it’s a little—well—”</p><p>“Tell me,” Credence says immediately, pulling back to look Percival in the eyes.</p><p>“We’ll need to make a detour when we leave to take you to the group home. To the Department of Records.” He looks meaningfully at Newt. “And we’ll need your brother’s help.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Credence can’t quite believe what’s just happened.</p><p>He was immensely relieved when he heard his sentence, and as much as he hates the idea of being separated from Percy again, he felt even better about it when Newt explained that he was going there for healing and education and training, all the things he ought to have had after the fight in New York and hadn’t gotten because he was too busy trying not to get killed by MACUSA. Really, he’d thought he would be spending time either in the wizarding-world equivalent of a madhouse or in jail, so this was better than he’d hoped for…</p><p>But what Percy did, and got him to do, so they could see each other while he was in therapy…that <em> really </em> took the cake.</p><p>Credence looks down at the little silver band on his left ring finger, and all he can think is, <em> this means I belong to Percy. And he belongs to me. </em></p><p>He looks over to his lover—no, his <em> husband </em> now, his lawfully wedded spouse. It’s too much and tears well up in his eyes. Percy sees the look on his face and rushes to reassure him. “I’m sorry, it’s not much of a wedding day, is it? We’ll do it up right later,” he promises hastily. “The minute we get you out of this place I’ll take you away. We’ll go somewhere nice and warm. South of France, you think? Sun and sea, does that sound good?”</p><p>“You’ve never taken a vacation in your life,” Theseus chuckles. “I’d pay actual galleons to see you in a bathing costume, Perce.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, that’s for Credence’s eyes only,” Percy replies with a roll of his eyes. To Credence he adds gently, “Now, listen. You’ve got rights, don’t forget that. If you need me, you’re allowed to contact me any time, don’t let them tell you otherwise.”</p><p>“I’ll be fine, Percy,” Credence promises. He reaches out and squeezes his husband’s (his <em> husband, </em> he still can’t believe it!) hands. “I’ll be fine,” he repeats. “Tina’s arranging it all now, she says they’ll take care of me here.”</p><p>Theseus laughs again and says, “See, there’s the problem, kid. Percival here thinks he’s the only one who should be allowed to take care of you.” Seeing the dark look on Percy’s face, he sobers and quickly retreats to the door, leaving Credence and Percy relatively alone in the foyer of the group home.</p><p>It’s a nice place, really. Much nicer than Pike Street. Credence has already met the motherly nurse (healer, the wizards called her) in charge of the group home, and the mind-healer who will be treating the “mental health issues” as the wizards call it, that apparently are linked to his obscurus. They both seemed nice enough. He’ll get to learn magic, too, with a tutor brought in from the English wizards’ school. He’d be so excited right now if only…well. If only Percy could stay with him, but of course that wouldn’t make sense. Percy didn’t do anything wrong. He doesn’t need to be locked up.</p><p>Percy sees the look on his face and smiles, reaching out to him with a reassuring hand. “Sweetheart, I promise, I will come see you every time I possibly can. And it’ll go by fast. You’ll see.”</p><p>Credence nods and draws Percy into an embrace, smiling as he feels Percy’s head rest in the crook of his neck. He loves holding Percy like this, loves feeling the tough, commanding bad-wizard-catcher melting like warmed-up chocolate in his arms. He thinks of that beautiful night they shared after they were reunited and feels something warm glowing in his chest. For Percy, he thinks, he can do this.</p><p>“They’ll let us be together,” he reminds Percy softly as he strokes his hair. “If I play ball with them, like we said the other night, they won’t hurt me. And this place seems really nice…only…”</p><p>Percy draws back. “What is it, love?” he asks, cupping Credence’s face in his hands. “What’s wrong? I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”</p><p>Credence has to smile. <em> I’ll fix it. </em> So typical Percy. “They put me in here because they think I’m crazy, didn’t they. They think I’m going to break down and kill someone.”</p><p>“Crazy—no. In possession of a powerful magical force that could completely wreck all of London, yeah,” Percy tells him candidly. He strokes the curves of Credence’s cheeks with his thumbs, staring at his face as if to memorize it. “You aren’t bad, sweetheart, and they know that. You’re a good person who’s had a lot of bad things happen to you. You’re here so you can learn to deal with the effects those bad things had on you, that’s all. Not to mention, well, you’ve just got a lot of magical education to catch up on. Learn a few spells that you can use when we aren’t having sex,” he teases Credence.</p><p>Credence rolls his eyes. But he does pull Percy back in and hold him again, and he whispers into his hair, “It’s not forever.” Because he can feel Percy’s heart racing through his shirt, and he knows what it means. He knows that, whether he’ll admit it or not, Percy hasn’t fully gotten over what happened with the baby, and Grindelwald, and…come to think of it, maybe Percy <em> does </em> need to be here, if the criteria is “bad things have happened to you.”</p><p>Percy clings to him for one more moment, even as Credence feels, rather than sees, that Theseus has come back, as well as Tina and Newt and the healers from the group home. It’s time to let go, but Percy doesn’t seem to want to. “You’ll be okay,” he murmurs into Credence’s neck, and Credence knows he’s trying to convince himself. “It’ll be okay.”</p><p>“I love you,” Credence tells him, and gently draws back. “I have to go, and so do you. But I love you, and—” He wants to cry, but because he knows it will break Percy into pieces if he does, he holds it in. “And I’ll be fine. I’m happy about this Percy, really I am. I’d rather be here than in jail, and—and at least you can come see me now.”</p><p>Percy forces a smile. He squeezes Credence’s hands tight and gives him one last gentle little good-bye kiss, wistfully stroking the ring on Credence’s left ring finger with the tip of his thumb, before he lets Theseus lead him away, leaving Credence to face his new life alone.</p><p><em>No, </em> Credence thinks, warmth blooming in his chest once again as Tina takes one hand and Newt takes the other and they lead him deeper into the house. <em> Not alone. I’ll never be alone again. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Miscarriage TW spoilers: Specific ones this time--Credence directly states that Grindelwald's actions caused Percy to miscarry, and he articulates a desire for revenge</p><p>Mental health TW spoilers: Credence is sentenced to a minimum of six months in a halfway house for "part human creatures" who are having trouble controlling their powers. He's mostly fine with it. It's discussed in context as a positive thing because he's 1) going to learn actual magic and 2) going to get some therapy for everything he's been through.<br/>HOWEVER...Percy is very much Not Fine At All with it. Theseus points out a couple of times that Percival's response to Credence potentially going to inpatient therapy is not at all healthy. Percy's POVs for this chapter delve pretty deep into his anxiety, and his inability to "get over" everything that happened to him since he met Credence and got kidnapped by Grindelwald. Credence even reflects at some point that Percy needs therapy as badly as he does.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. En Route at the Speed of Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WHEW OK SO I'M BACK WITH THIS ONE AGAIN</p><p>It's been hard to find time to update WIPs with school but. I'm almost done! ^_^</p><p>TWs for this chapter:<br/>-General reminder that miscarriage/grief/mourning is a throughline of this fic<br/>-Mental healthcare/inpatient treatment<br/>-Panic attacks<br/>-Depression/anxiety related to trauma<br/>-Explicit sex scene that includes obscurus sex (yes I went there)</p><p>See end notes for TW spoilers :)</p><p>And I'm very VERY active on Twitter now AND I HAVE A TUMBLR! :D Come hit me up @CupcakeFoggy on both sites :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Seraphina Picquery is not at all pleased with how this situation is going. First, she loses her right-hand man to a genocidal maniac. Then she found him…and he was useless, because he was too sad to fight. And then while she was <em> trying </em> to get him fighting fit again, he ran away with a British kid whose idea of a “job” is dicking around with magical lizards.</p><p>There was a time, Seraphina thinks grimly, when Graves would listen to her. When he would willingly sacrifice anything for the good of his country. Where, she wonders, is that man now? In England, apparently, trying to get his husband (it makes her throw up in her mouth a little to think of it: the man who once swore to her he’d rather die than legally chain himself to a romantic partner, <em> married? </em> what on earth has that obscurial <em> done </em> to him?) out of a murder charge.</p><p>Really, but can’t everyone see she did the world a favor when she killed that thing? It killed no-majs, nearly exposed their world, <em> it tried to kill her! </em> There was a time when Graves would kill <em> anything </em> that tried to hurt her.</p><p>She thinks of those days with a twinge. He used to be so good to her. So loyal. He used to love her best, and now he’s willing to cut her out of his life for the terrible alleged crime of, what, <em> trying to defend the entire state of New York from a dangerous smoke monster? </em> </p><p>No. This cannot be allowed to continue. Grindelwald is ravaging Europe, and Seraphina is furious that he escaped in transit from <em> her </em> prison. After all the work she did to catch him, too! She’s heard the rumors. She knows what he’s after.</p><p>She thinks for a moment. The obscurial, of course, is what Grindelwald wants. And if Grindelwald could have him, well. That would solve a lot of her problems. First of all, if he were on Grindelwald’s side, MACUSA or the British Ministry or <em> any </em> magical government could just kill him on sight. And second, if she could just get rid of <em> him </em> once and for all, she could have her right hand man back again. She’s sure that whatever odd, crude Entrancing Enchantment this boy has cast on Graves will break the minute he’s dead.</p><p>So. There’s the new plan: get Credence Barebone to go to the dark side, then kill him. And once she’s got Percival Graves out of the boy’s clutches, she can take steps to prevent this sort of thing from happening again.</p><p>The Warlock’s Hairy Heart is a cautionary tale, but things have changed since those days. Magic is a little more…precise…now. Anti-love spells aren’t as dangerous as they used to be. And even if they are, well, as far as Seraphina is concerned, nothing is more dangerous than a world in which Percival Graves does not belong to MACUSA.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Three months into his time at the Gwen Ellis Center for Magical Healing, and Credence has never been more thankful to that judge for sending him here.</p><p>He thought he was doing okay. That controlling magic was exhausting for everyone, that every wizard had to concentrate on <em> not </em> using magic as hard as they did on actually doing magic. He thought that those days when he felt so weak and numb he could barely move were a character failing of his, that waking up in a cold sweat from nightmares was just an inconvenience that everyone had to deal with, that feeling afraid of things that were apparently ordinary in the wizarding world was a natural reaction to finding out that he was a wizard.</p><p>But no, none of that is normal. And it completely blew his mind the day that his healers informed him that the constant edge of fear is called anxiety, that his fatigue from controlling his obscurus is due to mental exhaustion, and that those melancholy days are symptoms of a disease called depression—and that there are potions and charms and exercises to help every single one of those problems.</p><p>Every day now he has magic lessons with a very kind tutor from Newt’s school, and it is so much easier to control his powers when he isn’t terrified that one slip will result in disaster. His tutor, Newt’s favorite professor Mr. Dumbledore, thinks that it was only because Credence has so much power that he was able to survive the development of his obscurus—and it’s that same power that makes him feel so tired; of course it’s exhausting, keeping so much raw magical energy in check.</p><p>But now he <em> can. </em> Now he takes medicine every morning—strengthening solution to keep the fatigue at bay, mood-boosting potions even on mornings he doesn’t feel sad (a “maintenance dose,” his healer calls it), a calming draught if he wakes feeling tense and frightened from a nightmare. And he has sessions daily with a mind-healer, a kind and motherly witch who has tried her best to straighten out the tangled mess of emotional scars from his various trials.</p><p>“I wish no-majs had this stuff,” he tells her one day. “It would make things so much easier…if I weren’t a wizard and I went crazy I’d have just been locked up or killed.” He frowns a little. “I know why we can’t, but I wish we could share some of our things with no-majs…medicine and stuff, I mean…it could save so many lives.”</p><p>He’s almost afraid to admit that, because he knows that’s something Grindelwald has said, that he wants non-magic people to know about wizards. But his healer just smiles at him and says reassuringly, “You feel that way because you have compassion and kindness, and that’s a good thing, Credence. There are plenty of people who went through the kind of things you did who would want to see their pain inflicted on others. But not you. You want to spare others from the things you experienced. That’s <em> good. </em> Keep hold of that.”</p><p>Credence can’t help but perk up a little at that. “Percy told me that, too. He thinks I should work with him at the Ministry after I leave here…I don’t know that I want to fight dark wizards, though. I’d rather do what Tina does. Go around and help people who haven’t had a…easy introduction to our world, you know?”</p><p>His healer seems to find that even more heartening, because she gives him another warm smile as she tells him, “You know, I think that would be a perfect job for you. As a Magical Advocate you <em> would </em> be in a position to challenge things like the Statue of Secrecy, in certain cases at least, because you’ve seen firsthand what happens when muggles are ill-informed about witchcraft, haven’t you? Is that something you’d really like to do?”</p><p>“I think so…but only after we get Grindelwald out of the way,” he tells her matter-of-factly. A little scowl comes over his face as he adds, “I’d want him gone even if he hadn’t kidnapped Percy and killed our baby. If he did all of that to us, who knows what he’s done to other people?”</p><p>“There’s that compassion…concern for others even in the face of tragedy…” Her smile drops a little. “But I don’t think you really want to kill him, do you?”</p><p>“I’d rather not. The obscurus knows how to kill, but I don’t,” he tells her candidly. “I know there are spells to do it, but I don’t want to know what they are. But if he came after us again, I’d do whatever I had to, to keep him from hurting Percy, or Newt or Tina, or Queenie and her baby…I don’t want him to hurt us, to hurt <em> anyone, </em> ever again.”</p><p>She reaches out and gives his arm a gentle pat. “And he won’t. I guess you know by now, the Ministry does want you to join the hunt for him. Is that something you think you could do, without losing control of your magic again?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t think I’d count it as losing control, if I had to let the obscurus out to fight him.”</p><p>She lets it go after that, and he’s thankful; even though he knows how to handle it now, how to keep it from bursting out, he still doesn’t much care to talk about the obscurus. Keeping it controlled isn’t as tiring now, and he knows how to keep his head when he does fully transform, and it <em> is </em> fun to play around with it in magic lessons…but Credence isn’t naive enough to think that having to let it out in the heat of battle won’t be terrifying.</p><p>It’s all right, he thinks that night as he takes the anti-anxiety potion that helps him sleep without nightmares. It’s all right, he doesn’t have to worry about that right now; he’ll be here at least a few more months, and as long as he’s here he doesn’t have to worry about Grindelwald. All he has to do right now is heal, and the fact that he’s allowed to just focus on that, to not worry about a thing except taking care of himself…that is a luxury Credence never thought he’d have.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>“All right, here we go, one last pup,” Newt says, watching Helen the niffler very closely. “Push now, just like you did the last one, there’s a good girl…”</p><p>But Helen doesn’t seem too concerned. She watches Percival clean off her second pup and makes a happy little squeak when he finishes and sets the baby down beside her. “There you go. There he is,” he says, and smiles when she snuggles the baby into her pouch beside his sister. “One more now, can you do it?”</p><p>Queenie sits beside them on a pillow, anxiously cradling her own baby bump. She’s nearly seven months now and she has <em> popped, </em> there’s not a glamour charm in the world that could obscure all of that. “Does it <em> hurt </em> her, pushing out the babies?” she asks.</p><p>Percival hears the question loud and clear in her voice: <em> will </em> I <em> hurt when I have </em> my <em> baby? </em> “Probably,” he admits, stroking the back of his niffler’s head with a fingertip, “but I don’t think she cares much once she’s got her babies.”</p><p>The third baby niffler slides out and Newt catches it. He promptly hands it over to Percival, who cleans away the amniotic fluid and puts anti-infection drops in the baby’s eyes. Newt watches carefully, but Percival must pass the unspoken test because when he’s done Newt absolutely glows. “Perfect,” he grins. “Is that one male or female?”</p><p>Percival checks. “Male. Two boys and a girl, then.” He hands the baby over to Helen, who promptly tucks him into her pouch. They deliver the placenta and clean up, and then Percival helps Queenie off her pillow and up the steps while Newt settles Helen back into the nifflers’ pen with her new babies.</p><p>He’d never admit it in a million years, but Percival is a little jealous of Queenie, as unfair as it is. First of all, even with swollen ankles and a round belly she’s still so pretty it turns the heads of every wizard (and a few of the witches) when she steps out. When <em> he </em> was pregnant, even in the early stages Percival felt about as attractive as a piece of burnt toast. And on top of that, well. Queenie has Jacob here with her, and Percival would slay every dragon in the world (forgive him, Newt) if he could have Credence by his side.</p><p>Credence has been locked up (he doesn’t see it that way but Percival does, damn it) for over three months now. Percival may only see him once a week for a two-hour block, and during that time they’re heavily supervised. The healers actually argued about whether they should be allowed to hold hands, until Percival exasperatedly pointed out, “Not to be crude, but we’re <em> married, </em> do you really think if physical affection made him transform I’d still be alive?” They’re allowed to sit next to each other and cuddle, but even kisses make the healer frown, and it’s impossible to talk, really <em> talk, </em> with someone else in the room.</p><p>At least they have their letters. The days that they can’t see each other, Percival pours his heart out in letters to his husband and Credence sends him the sweetest little love-notes in reply. Percival has saved them, memorized them, keeps them in a magic-protected box out of reach of the creatures, will let no one see them, would absolutely die if he lost them.</p><p>He thought it would get easier, having Credence sequestered in a group home. He thought at least this time he could sleep at night knowing Credence is alive and safe…but knowing he’s alive and safe, but <em> out of reach, </em> knowing that his well-being is currently in <em> someone else’s hands, </em> drives Percival absolutely crazy.</p><p>Even worse is that Credence seems perfectly all right with it. He’s <em> happy. </em> He tells Percival, lit up with excitement at every visit, how happy he is to finally be learning magic, to be able to take potions that soothe his anxiety, to have access to a mind-healer (an unheard-of concept for no-majs). If it bothers him that the healer coughs pointedly every time Percival leans in for a kiss that lasts more than a two-count, he doesn’t show it. Credence, Percival thinks despairingly, must be so used to being in prison that even a nice prison seems like an improvement.</p><p>He’s being unreasonable, he knows it. Credence is well cared for, and this is certainly better than believing he’s dead, only…only…he can’t…</p><p>“Perce? You with us?”</p><p>Percival jumps at the sound of Theseus’ voice. Oh. He’s lost time again, then. He looks around the room and sees Newt and Tina sitting side-by-side on the couch, just looking at each other and smiling. Nearby Queenie is giggling and bursting with barely-suppressed pride as Leta coos over her swollen belly. Jacob must be in the kitchen, because something in there smells delicious. Nagini is curled up in an armchair with Newt’s creature book.</p><p>It’s a charming scene. And it makes Percival <em> hurt, </em> because all he can see is what’s missing. “I’m all right,” he says automatically, but when he looks down, <em> fuck it, </em> that blasted hand is on his stomach again.</p><p>He feels a flutter of magic wash over him and scowls at his friend. Theseus shrugs and says, “Just a diagnostic charm. Had to check. I thought maybe…”</p><p>“How many times do I have to tell you Credence didn’t get me pregnant when he was here in July? He can control his magic now. I’m <em> fine, </em> Theo, I swear.”</p><p>“You’re not, though,” Theseus says gently. “You’ll hate me for saying it, but I think you actually looked less like an inferius when I saw you right after you got here, back when you thought he was dead.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Percival repeats, but it’s hollow, weak, and he can’t let go, his hand is glued to his belly and he can’t even look over at the others because he will see Newt and Tina looking at each other like <em> that </em> and Queenie’s baby bump far bigger than his ever got to be and he won’t be able to hide what he’s feeling.</p><p>Theseus reaches up and traces slow, soothing strokes across his upper back. He’s much, <em> much </em> more free with casual touch than Newt, something for which Percival is vastly thankful. “Talk to me,” Theseus urges him gently. “I know you miss him, but that’s not all this is, yeah? You look like you’ve just been cursed. Please tell me what’s wrong.” When Percival still can’t find the words, Theseus adds bracingly, “He’s safe. You know that, don’t you?”</p><p>“I keep trying to tell myself that.” Percival’s tongue flicks out to wet his dry lips. “That he’s safe, and he’s happy…but I can’t make myself believe it. It’s—it’s <em> me, </em> Theo, it’s my fault, I’m—broken,” he finally gets out, and oh, the relief he feels at admitting it!</p><p>The hand petting his back grips his shoulder and draws him in, and he willingly melts into the hug, his forehead dipping to Theseus’ shoulder in an automatic gesture of surrender. “You’re not <em> broken,” </em> Theseus says soothingly. “You’ve been through a lot, that’s all. Why won’t you let anyone help?”</p><p>“Because the last time I did,” Pericval says bluntly, “I was held against my will and forcibly medicated. I can’t do that again, but—but Mercy Lewis I think I’m losing it. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and—and it’ll all have been a dream—I’m still in the hospital and he’s really dead—or we never found him, and Grindelwald got to him first—I hate not being able to just roll over at night and hold him when I wake up from a dream where he’s dead or worse, I just—”</p><p>He breaks off, and realizes he’s shaking. Theseus, Magic bless him, leads him out onto Newt’s tiny front porch for some privacy. “Easy there,” he says softly as the door closes behind them. “It’s all right. I’m right here with you.”</p><p>“I don’t want to feel this way,” Percival manages, “and I don’t know how to make it <em> stop. </em> I thought when I found him it would be better, but—but if anything it’s worse, it’s <em> torture, </em> knowing he’s out there and someone else is in charge of him, that—that if the judge hadn’t been so kind he could have been sentenced to the Kiss and I couldn’t have stopped it—”</p><p>His breath comes in short gasps and suddenly he can’t get the words out and he can’t breathe, he’s either going to cry or explode, and Theseus has him now, holding him firmly and close the way he likes, rocking him like he would a child. “Easy, easy,” he says gently. “Easy, just breathe, you’re all right. I know. I know you’re scared, I know you’re hurt, but it’s all right.” </p><p>“It’s not,” Percival chokes. “It’s <em> not, </em> he’s going to be okay, he’s going to be <em> fine </em> and I’m going to be like <em> this </em> and—” He presses his face hard into Theseus’ shoulder and fights to get his breath back. “I can’t breathe,” he whimpers into his best friend’s shoulder. “I can’t—<em>fuck</em>—”</p><p>“Sh-h-h. Let go. You’re safe, Perce,” Theseus promises him softly. “You can be hurt right now. It’s okay. You can break. I’ve got you.”</p><p>Percival doesn’t know what Theseus means until the tears come like a raging storm, and with them comes a sensation of raw relief that makes him weak. He sags against Theseus, lets himself be held up by his friend’s strength, cries like he’s been given a week to live. “I love him,” he whispers when the worst of it has passed. “It will…it will <em> kill me </em> to lose him again.”</p><p>“I know.” Theseus cradles Percival close to his chest, and Percival gratefully leans into him, letting the pressure and weight of the touch ground him. “He feels what you feel, you know. He’s not going to leave you.”</p><p>“Not on purpose, but…”</p><p>“But Grindelwald is out there and you feel vulnerable.” Theseus always understands. “You want to protect what’s yours. I understand. But listen…those healers, that judge, Newt and Tina—they all want to protect him too. He’s no good to Grindelwald if he’s in control of his magic and can defend himself. Grindelwald wants a puppet. If Credence is too strong to be broken—just like you were when you were captured—he’s got a much better chance.”</p><p>“I know, but I’m selfish. I want him here,” Percival confesses. “I <em> know </em> he needed to be sent away, but…Theseus, you don’t know what it’s like. Every week those healers watch us, with their clipboards…my husband reaches out for me to hold him and they sit there and try to parse out <em> why. </em> I’m afraid to touch him or say anything to him for fear they’ll keep him there longer and—”</p><p>“Listen to me, Percival,” Theseus cuts him off firmly, “you need to talk to someone. These things you’re feeling are not just going to go away, and you’ll be no good to Credence if you don’t take care of yourself.” He holds Percival at arm’s length and forces him to meet his eyes. “I’m putting you on leave until you see a healer, and that’s final. I’m not doing it to punish you,” he adds when Percival starts to protest. “You’re my best auror and my best friend, and it’s my job to look after you when you get hurt. And you <em> are </em> hurt. You’re doing the emotional equivalent of walking on a broken leg, do you realize that?”</p><p>Percival shakes his head, and then, under Theseus’ fierce stare, he caves and manages a small nod. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be sorry.” Theseus drags him back into an embrace and it feels so good a tiny moan of relief escapes. Percival presses his face into his friend’s jacket collar; he's never been more thankful that Theseus is a human hugging machine. “Don’t be sorry,” he repeats, rubbing Percival’s back and holding him tight. “Just get yourself some help.”</p><p>Percival says nothing in reply, just holds on tight and acknowledges in his head that a friend who didn’t care as much would’ve just tried to make him feel better without telling him the truth.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>But the very next day, Theseus firecalls Percival as he’s sitting down to breakfast. “Change of plans,” he says tensely. “You need to come in. We have a situation.”</p><p>Percival’s first thought is that Credence has been taken. “Oh Mercy Lewis,” he breathes, black spots threatening to overtake his vision. “Theseus, is it—is he—”</p><p>“Credence is as safe as he can be,” Theseus immediately assures him. “It’s you. I want you in my sight at all times.”</p><p>“Why?” The momentary relief at hearing Credence is all right is replaced quickly with a sense of impending doom. “Grindelwald is in England, isn’t he.”</p><p>“Oh, no. Well. He may be.” Theseus sighs heavily. “I’m sending Tina over, she’s going to escort you…we may end up putting you in a safehouse…” He meets Percival’s eyes, apology written all over his face. “The President of MACUSA is on her way. She’ll be here by portkey this afternoon.”</p><p>Percival’s stomach turns to a minefield and he pushes his breakfast away. Sheer pride makes him hold onto consciousness, though it would be such a relief to let go and pass out right there at the table.</p><p>“All right,” he hears himself say hollowly, mentally saying good-bye to any hope of seeing Credence this weekend. “All right. I’ll be ready in five.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Credence is in the middle of a magic lesson when he gets the news. He’s just learned to cast a Patronus, and Mr. Dumbledore smiles when he sees the shape: an eerie, skeletal horse with beautiful wings. “It’s a thestral,” he explains to Credence. “Thestrals are considered an ill omen, much like you with your obscurus. But also like you, they’re really very gentle and only attack when provoked.” He pats Credence on the arm. “Try it again. The easier it comes now, the easier it will when you have to try it on a dementor.”</p><p>Dementors, Credence has learned, are those <em> things </em> that made it go all cold and dark and scary, the night he almost found Percy at the circus. They are apparently one of the few things that can fully subdue his obscurus, so he’s determined to learn the spell to keep them at bay. Also, he can’t wait for Percy to see him do such an advanced spell, he’ll be so proud…</p><p>And that’s when Tina arrives, white-faced and radiating grim determination. “I need Credence, professor. Right now,” she says crisply, and before anyone else can say a word she’s pulled Credence into the administrative office, made him sign about ten different papers in glowing ink, and sent him to his room. “Get anything you’ll need for an overnight and meet me on the front step in ten minutes. If you’re even a minute late we’ll have problems,” she warns him.</p><p>Credence packs quickly and joins her on the steps. He sees the tin can she’s holding and quickly realizes what it is, what it means. “Am I allowed to leave?” he worries aloud.</p><p>“As long as you’re with me, yes. You’re at the point where you’d be allowed day trips and short furloughs anyway…though I don’t think this is how it’s supposed to go, or how you’re supposed to be told…”</p><p>The portkey activates and takes them to the Ministry. Tina leads him down to the holding cells, then hangs a left. “This is where we put people who need protection while they’re waiting to testify against powerful criminals,” she explains. “Same enchantments protect these as the ones protecting your halfway house, so you’ll be perfectly safe here.”</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Credence says as they go down a set of stairs to what looks like a hall full of apartments. “Why am I being moved here? Am I going to have to testify again?” His heart flutters with anticipation. “Did you get him, Tina?”</p><p>“Oh—no, sorry, we haven’t caught Grindelwald.” She stops outside one of the apartments. “No, but…” She looks furtively around the hall and then tells him, very quietly, “President Picquery is here. We aren’t sure why, the official story is that she’s hosting an international symposium on how to peacefully end the war against Grindelwald.”</p><p>He immediately understands. “Oh. You’re putting me here so she can’t get me.”</p><p>Tina finally smiles. “Oh, no. You were perfectly safe where you were. No, there’s something else…” She taps her wand in a complicated pattern against the door, which Credence now sees has no handles. “Go on in, Credence. Trust me.”</p><p>Confused, he does…and then it all becomes clear moments later when he’s caught up in a very familiar pair of arms. “Percy!” He clutches his husband like his life depends on it, sighing in relief and then promptly bursting into giggles when Percy attacks his entire face with kisses. “Oh my God, you’re like a puppy! Stop it,” he laughs, and eventually manages to hold Percy off. “What’s going on? What are we doing here?”</p><p>Percy finally lets him go, only to lead him over to the sofa. It’s a nice apartment, Credence thinks as he looks around the room. Very comfortable and homey, not at all what he’d expect from a standard-issue safehouse. “Picquery’s here, and we think she might be here to try something. Sources have said she’s eager to get me back to MACUSA. I won’t go,” Percy hastily assures him. “But Theseus wants me here in the Ministry where he can keep an eye on me…but he knew I’d die if I couldn’t see you, one more time at least.”</p><p>“Don’t talk like that,” Credence scolds him. “You’ll see me every day when I’m finished with treatment.”</p><p>“That’s too far away. Come here.” Percy hauls Credence into his lap for a long, passionate, electrifying kiss. </p><p>Credence wants to pull back and ask him what’s going on, why the president of MACUSA would come after him, but he’s only human and it’s been so long since Percy has been able to kiss him like this…and Credence understands why healers are so strict about letting them by physical; it’s hardly appropriate behavior in front of someone else, but he feels bad whenever he sees how much it frustrates Percy that the healers interrupt their kisses.</p><p>But now they can kiss freely and they <em> do. </em> Percy’s mouth is heaven, warm and wet and delicious, and Credence finds himself returning the kiss with great enthusiasm. He tangles his hands in Percy’s long hair and tugs until he feels Percy writhing beneath him. Percy moans into their kiss and closes his arms more tightly around Credence’s trembling form. And oh, he <em> is </em> trembling, his entire body quivering with a need he’s been suppressing for <em> months. </em> </p><p>“Bed,” Percy gasps when he pulls back for air. “Bed. <em> Now. </em> I can’t wait any longer, I need you.”</p><p>Credence wonders if the apartment is warded against magic. He tries to apparate and can’t; he turns into the obscurus and whirls them both away to the bedroom, which works much better. Percy gasps again as he is unceremoniously dropped to the bed. “So,” Credence says with a grin as he works at Percy’s clothes, “I’ve learned a few new tricks.”</p><p>“I can see that.” Percy groans as Credence, having finished undressing him in record time, runs both hands down the length of his body. “You know, I seem to recall us discussing you needed to learn—ooh—some non-bedroom magic?”</p><p>Credence giggles and leans in to nips his bottom lip. “Hmm, well, I could show you what I learned today…” He pulls back and sits up a little, Percy’s legs locked around his waist, and concentrates hard—<em>expecto patronum!</em>—and then his winged horse is galloping around them, silver and bright and beautiful.</p><p>Percy stares in shock. “Wait a minute,” he breathes, slowly sitting up. “Wait a <em> damn </em> minute—first of all, did you just cast that wandless? It took me years to do that, you just learned it <em> today?” </em></p><p>Credence can’t hide how much he loves having Percy look at him with such pride. “Mr. Dumbledore was impressed too,” he says happily.</p><p>“I can see why, but…hold on…” Percy concentrates too for a moment, and then <em> two </em> silver winged horses are galloping the room together. Percy stares, eyes wide, and then turns his face back to Credence with an almost pleading look. “It used to be a wampus cat,” he breathes, reaching up to touch Credence’s face with a shaking hand. “You changed me, sweetheart. Look at that.”</p><p>“Wait, I don’t understand. Patronuses can change?”</p><p>“They’re a manifestation of your soul, sort of. A soul-shield, if that makes sense. And sometimes when your life changes in a massive way…fuck it, I’ll explain later, get down here.” Percy reaches up, grabs Credence by the collar of his shirt and hauls him in for a frantic, biting kiss.</p><p>Well. Credence certainly isn’t about to complain about that. He lets Percy devour him for a moment, then pulls back to strip off his own jacket and shirt. He banishes both of their pants and underwear and pins Percy down again, kissing him with renewed hunger. “Want you,” he whispers between kisses. “Want you <em> so </em> bad…”</p><p>“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”</p><p>Credence moves along, biting and sucking marks into Percy’s waiting neck. Percy writhes underneath him, soft needy cries spilling from his lips, and arches up with a sharp gasp when Credence pinches both nipples. Credence lets out a breathy moan as Percy’s hips twitch and press up against his. “I have an idea,” he says, “but if it upsets you we don’t have to.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>Credence takes a deep breath and slowly lets the obscurus unfurl partway. Soft black tendrils ease their way up Percy’s body, teasing and caressing. Percy groans and lets himself melt into the touch, and Credence shivers: he can feel it, where the tentacles of the obscurus are touching Percy’s skin, and it feels <em> nice. </em> “Can I?” he asks.</p><p>Percy shudders under the touch, his eyes rolling up as the tentacles tease his nipples. One thin black cord winds its way up and tenderly strokes his throat. “Oh gods,” he breathes, another shiver rolling through him. “It’s like—it’s like being tickled, but—I don’t even know how to describe it—”</p><p>“Does it feel good?” Credence asks with a teasing smile. He <em> knows </em> it feels good. It’s as if the obscurus absorbs some of Percy’s pleasure and sends it up to Credence like a telegraph wire; he’s feeling some of what Percy feels. It’s the closest to telepathy they’ve ever gotten, and Credence doesn’t think he’ll ever want to let this feeling go.</p><p>“It’s amazing,” Percy breathes, and arches up into the touch when a smoky tendril wraps itself around his cock and strokes gently. “Oh. Oh Mercy Lewis, that’s—<em>ohhh—” </em>He sucks in a sharp breath. “You know, I wouldn’t usually like it like this…all soft and tender…”</p><p>“Not enough pain for you?” Credence teases. “Hmm. I think I can fix that.” He focuses for a moment, casts the spell that Percy used to have to do for him—the one to open Percy up and make him slick inside. Percy gasps at the feeling and Credence makes the obscurus tentacle ease its way inside, making Percy’s eyes roll back. “There it is,” he coos, using the obscurus to tease the spot that he knows will make Percy writhe in pleasure. “Tell me when it’s too much.”</p><p>He works the tentacle deeper, makes it widen, until Percy is squirming helplessly underneath him. He loves watching this, loves the way Percy just comes undone for him. There’s something truly delicious, always has been, about having such a beautiful and strong and <em> important </em> man, completely melt under his hands.</p><p>And he can tell now that Percy <em> is </em> coming undone, that he’s getting close. Credence can feel faint echoes of his pleasure through the obscurus and he knows how <em> full </em> Percy feels with that tentacle—swelled up well past the normal girth of Credence’s cock—stretching him and teasing him.</p><p>And yet— “More,” Percy begs, his back arching, his head tossing on the pillow. “More, sweetheart. <em> Please.” </em></p><p>“More? You mean being fucked with raw magic isn’t enough for you?” Credence teases him. “What, you want I should get in there too?” He’s kidding, but Percy <em> keens, </em> his entire body straining down to meet the swollen tentacle inside him, and Credence just stares in awe. He can feel something through the obscurus, he knows it doesn’t exactly <em> hurt, </em> but he has to believe double penetration will…</p><p>He knows what to do. “Okay,” he says, stroking a soothing hand over Percy’s trembling belly. “Okay, relax. I’m going to try, all right?”</p><p>They work up to it, slow and careful, despite Percy’s repeated pleas for more. Credence casts the slick charm on his fingers and works them in besides the tentacle, which he shrinks down proportionately, then slides out entirely. “I know, I know,” he says when Percy complains about feeling empty. “I know. Just relax. I’ll make you feel full again, I promise.”</p><p>Percy shudders and whines softly as Credence slicks his cock and carefully eases himself in and oh, <em> oh </em> it’s good, the sounds Percy’s making are enough to set Credence on fire, but combine that with the slick, delicious warmth as he sinks inside…<em>heaven. </em></p><p>“More,” Percy demands, pushing down to meet the first few gentle thrusts. “Please. You know—I need—”</p><p>“I know you like it hard and fast. I promise it’ll be good,” Credence promises, and to make up for the slow burn he drags his nails down Percy’s chest a few times. The pain seems to help center Percy as it always does, and he lets out more soft, whimpering noises as Credence teases him, adding in more scratches and bites this time.</p><p>The noise Percy makes when Credence finally pulls all the way out and slams in hard will haunt Credence’s dreams next time he’s alone, he’s sure of it. “Ready?” he asks, gently guiding Percy’s legs around his waist. <em> “Ooh, </em> you feel so good. I’m going to go hard now and add in the obscurus, okay?”</p><p>“Please,” Percy begs through gritted teeth, and then, <em> “Aaagh!” </em> when Credence does just what he promised.</p><p>Credence delivers a few good hard thrusts, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure at the intoxicating sensation of Percy’s body sucking him in, his hole clenching greedily around Credence’s dick like it’s trying to keep him there. “Love you so much,” he pants. “God, you’re hot. I could fuck you forever.”</p><p>Percy flings his head back on the pillow. “I wish you <em> would,” </em> he gasps, and then cries out when Credence takes the presented opportunity to sink his teeth into Percy’s throat.</p><p>“All right. Stop me if you don’t want this,” Credence warns him, and then releases the obscurus again, this time using two tendrils to wrap around Percy’s wrists like rope and pin him to the bed, while a third carefully eases into Percy’s stretched hole beside Credence’s cock. The rest of the obscurus fans out around them, blocking out most of the light in the room; it’s like they’re in a protective little cave.</p><p>Percy’s shaking so hard now his whole body is nearly vibrating, his eyes wide and shocked as he stares at Credence like he’s never seen anything like him before. “Your eyes are white,” he breathes, and then he cries out again as the tentacle inside him begins to move in time with Credence’s thrusts.</p><p>Pleasure settles over Credence in a haze; he can still see Percy, can still see the outline of him writhing under Credence’s touch and it’s ever bit as intoxicating, but his vision is fuzzy now and he’s mostly going on feeling. And oh, <em> what </em> a feeling! He can still feel Percy’s channel clenching hot and hungry around his cock, but now he can feel the silky, barely-corporeal tentacle sliding in and out with him, and can feel the faint echoes of what Percy’s feeling echoed back to him through the tentacle as well. The firsthand pleasure of fucking Percy, and the secondhand pleasure from fucking him <em> with the obscurus, </em> is overwhelming and Credence knows he won’t last long.</p><p>“I want to make you come,” he says, his voice taking on the echoing quality that it does when he transforms. “I want to make you <em> mine.” </em></p><p>“Please,” Percy begs faintly, his eyes still wide as he stares into Credence’s white ones, a dazed, trance-like expression on his pleasure-shocked face.</p><p>With his obscurus bearing most of his weight, as well as pinning Percy to the bed for him, Credence’s hands are free to cup around Percy’s face. He strokes Percy’s cheeks with his thumbs, and is not at all shocked to feel tears there. “Feels so good, doesn’t it,” he says, thrusting harder; Percy whimpers and twists in his grip. “Are you close?”</p><p>“So close,” Percy chokes out, and then outright <em> screams </em> as Credence drops his hands to his nipples and twists, hard, thrusting in deep as he does. He can feel his own pleasure building and it only increases when Percy comes, sudden and untouched and <em> loud, </em> his cries reaching a fever pitch as he spurts so hard his release hits his own neck.</p><p>It’s too much. Credence lets his lids close over his white eyes and gives into the feeling, swept away in a helpless maelstrom of pleasure. He hears his own roar and has just enough sense left to hope that it doesn’t frighten Percy, but judging by the sob of <em> oh God Credence yes </em> whatever happens to his obscurus when he comes is enough to make Percy feel incredible, so. Likely he doesn’t mind the animalistic noises <em> too </em> much.</p><p>Credence sinks down, down, <em> down, </em> melting into a haze of bliss as the obscurus settles around them like a blanket. He feels his magic drawing back into him slowly, the tentacle inside Percy easing out and the tendrils around his wrists unraveling, the black cloak settled over them shrinking up like a drying puddle. For a moment Credence lies there, luxuriating in the satisfaction sinking deep into every bone and muscle. He used to feel so <em> exhausted </em> when he tried to control the obscurus. Now, well…he feels the usual pleasant weariness that comes with good sex, but he could go again, he thinks, if Percy wanted to; the obscurus seems to have fueled him this time, not drained him.</p><p>But Percy is a quivering, sweat-soaked, teary mess beneath him, breath coming in short, aching gasps. Right. Credence stirs himself and rolls off, does several charms to vanish the worst of the mess on both of them. He takes a moment to check Percy over, make sure he hasn’t caused too much damage, and notices traces of something black and slippery mixed with his own release. “Interesting,” he murmurs as he vanishes that mess, too. “I think my obscurus got off inside you too, I hope that’s okay.”</p><p>Percy lets out a weak laugh, his eyes fluttering, but doesn’t say anything. Credence smiles to himself: Percy is too wrecked to <em> move, </em> let alone try to speak. He’s done his job then; he loves it when Percy is so out of it from their lovemaking all he can do is lie there in a limp, boneless puddle while Credence holds him.</p><p>So hold Percy he does, wrapping them both in layers of soft blankets as he cradles Percy to his chest and buries his face in Percy’s long hair. “I love you,” he murmurs, and strokes Percy’s back until he feels his husband’s breathing even out and knows Percy has fallen asleep in his arms. He closes his eyes and follows suit, for once not caring what tomorrow might bring.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p><br/>
What neither of them know is that deep inside Percival something has changed. Something is <em> growing. </em> Magic has taken root and his body is shifting, carefully and slowly, one tiny bit at a time, to accommodate the new arrival.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Mental health TW spoilers: Credence is at what's essentially a group home for people with trouble controlling their magic due to mental health issues. We don't go too in-depth in his time there, but we do see him in a session with his therapist, and it's discussed in the narrative that he takes potions/medications now. It's all framed as EXTREMELY positive and he outright says he feels better now that he's learned to control his powers and gotten help for his depression.</p><p>Panic attack TW spoilers: Percival has a massive breakdown when Theseus asks if he's pregnant again. The conversation spirals from a friendly discussion into Percival full-on crying and hyperventilating while Thesesus tries to talk him through it. </p><p>-Anxiety/depression/PTSD TW spoilers: The meltdown is mainly the result of Percival trying to ignore his mounting anxiety, and he outright says he thought it would be better now that he knows Credence is okay (implying that he thought having Credence back would "cure" his trauma-related issues). The narrative describes Percival as feeling anxious about Credence not being readily available to him despite knowing all along that was a possibility, he is envious of Queenie for having the idyllic relationship and marriage that he wants for himself and Credence, and he tells Theseus during his breakdown that he feels afraid all the time that it's "all in his head' and he'll wake up one morning and find out that Credence is really dead. Ultimately Theseus (rightly) insists Percival see a healer and get some kind of counseling.</p><p>-Obscurus sex spoilers: YES I WENT HERE OKAY. ;) Their first time after months of separation, Percival and Credence get a little kinky in the bedroom and decide to involve Credence's obscurus in their...activities. ;P Credence uses the obscurus to touch Percival multiple times, holds him down with it, and uses it both to open him up for penetration and to penetrate him while Credence is fucking him (so, yes, there's some double penetration happening there, apologies to anyone uncomfortable with that.)</p><p>*blush* you'd think kinktober would've toughened me up but nope...still feelin awkward about this sex scene, please be gentle with me you guys &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Every Tear in My Eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ALSKJAFKSDHSFDKJFSD I AM SO SORRY YOU GUYS I GOT BLOCKED ON THIS ONE SO BAD ;_;</p><p>But. NOW WE'RE BAAACK XD</p><p> </p><p>And this one goes to some dark places, you guys. To spoil the TWs for this one would be to summarize the whole chapter. TWs for:<br/>-Severe depression<br/>-Bad coping mechanisms<br/>-Government corruption<br/>-Assault by a government leader<br/>-Panic attacks<br/>-Involuntary sedation<br/>-Repeated discussion of execution<br/>-Pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage</p><p>...So yes, I'm not kidding, *this is the whole chapter y'all.* If you need to skip this one I completely understand. See end notes for a general description of what happens.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> “No, </em> Madam President. I’m sorry.”</p><p>The president huffs and glares at him. Theseus stands firm. No way is he going to let a foreign power come onto British soil and make demands of him. The U.S., despite their insistence otherwise, is not the premiere world power, not for the wizards nor the muggles, and Theseus doesn’t have to cave to her whims.</p><p>She can’t throw a hissy fit, though. Not here. So she sits there in sulky silence, while the Minister coolly says, “If you’re finished harassing my Head Auror, Madam President, we do have more pressing matters to attend. There was a very suspicious burst of magic in Nice last night, and…”</p><p>The conversation moves along, but Theseus is still thinking. This is not normal. She’s been here for a month now and has made the same case over and over: that only by giving back Graves to MACUSA can the U.S. wizarding government achieve the power they need to stop Grindelwald. Which…makes absolutely no sense, considering Grindelwald is in Europe, for one thing, and for another, if that argument held any weight, the British Ministry would already have caught the bastard.</p><p>This isn’t political, he thinks. This is <em> personal. </em> Picquery, for whatever reason, has a bone to pick with Percival and she isn’t letting up. And Theseus knows, with a feeling of familiar, chilled dread settling deep in his stomach, that he can’t protect his friend forever.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Credence wakes with the familiar warm weight of Percy in his arms and can’t stop a smile from curving his lips. It’s been almost exactly a month since his first overnight, and he’s done so well that he was allowed a second. He does look forward to the day he can sleep beside his husband every night. But until that day comes…just knowing he can see Percy, can be with him away from prying eyes even if only for one night, is enough. </p><p>It helps that Percy seems much stronger these days. Theseus has set him up with a mind-healer, just like the ones Credence lives with now, and he seems a little more relaxed even if he is cooped up in a safehouse apartment all the time. He hates it, Credence knows, but it’s really much better for him to be here. “I wish I could see you every week,” Percy said last night, as Credence was riding his lap.</p><p>Credence just laughed and kissed him, and whispered against his lips, “Just hold on, love.” He smoothed back Percy’s hair. “I’m almost done,” he promised, “and then I’ll spend every night with you.”</p><p>“You’d better,” Percy said, and then flipped them over so that Credence was lying beneath him and…well. Words weren’t really required for what came next.</p><p>That was a good night. But now it’s morning, and Credence hates to do it, but he has to get dressed and wake his husband to say good-bye. Tina will meet him outside any minute and take him back to the home, and then it’ll be another month before he gets to have this again.</p><p>Percy does pout when Credence wakes him and lets him know it’s time to go, but he seems much more relaxed than he was the last time they parted. “How much longer do you have there? Two months?”</p><p>“One, if everything goes well,” Credence tells him happily. “By which point the president should be gone and we can move back into your place.”</p><p>“I live with Newt,” Percy reminds Credence. “We need our own place.”</p><p>“We’ll find it.” Credence kisses him good-bye and promises him letters, <em> lots </em> of letters, before he slips out the door, which seals itself firmly behind him He’s supposed to meet Tina at the end of the hall, but she’s not there. Well, that’s all right. He knows she’s always busy. He can wait.</p><p>That is, until a very familiar figure plants itself in front of him, and his heart nearly stops. “Well. Isn’t this awkward,” President Picquery says coolly. “Seems the young man who tried to kill me and half my aurors is allowed to wander the Ministry unchecked. I didn’t know that was policy these days, but of course, the times are changing…”</p><p>Credence forces himself to meet her eyes. She’s there, pretty and untouchable as ever, flanked by a pair of aides and a very unhappy-looking auror who must be her bodyguard. “Madam President,” he greets her calmly. “I remember our meetings a little differently.”</p><p>“Well, you would, I suppose, considering you were a mindless beast at the time.” She gives him an appraising look. “I suppose you’re looking…better. Tell me, have they found a way to make you stop transforming into a cloud of unchecked raw magic when someone slightly irritates you?”</p><p><em> She’s not your problem any more, </em> Credence reminds himself sternly. <em> You don’t have to care what she thinks. </em> “Ma’am, I’m sorry for any inconvenience I caused you, but that was a different time, and I was—things were—”</p><p>“You know nothing about anything,” she cuts him off, and Credence looks around for Tina because the President’s tone is hostile and he wants backup, <em> now. </em> “You don’t know, for instance, that with a word I can have you extradited back to America, where you <em> would </em> be sentenced to death for what you did. When I heard where they put you I was astonished. A therapeutic group home, really? As if a little monster like you can be tamed with some healing potions. Now, all things considered, I’m willing to let this go and pretend I didn’t see you here, if you tell me where they’re hiding Percival Graves.”</p><p>Credence almost laughs. As if he’d tell her! But the fact that Percy is only a hallway away is…disconcerting. The cluster of apartments for witness protection is enchanted to look like an ordinary wing of offices, but if one knows what to look for, Tina once told him, the enchantment <em> can </em> be seen through… “I can’t tell you that,” he says flatly. “He’s in protective custody. Like you said, ma’am…I don’t know anything about anything.”</p><p>He turns away, ending the conversation…or so he thinks. But Credence hears Tina call his name just as a rush of unfamiliar magic hits him, and then…and then, things go fuzzy…</p><p>It feels <em> good, </em> is the thing. Whatever spell she uses on him makes his mind go all floaty and soft, and for a moment all he can think about is how <em> nice </em> it feels. No pain, no danger…it can’t be a dark spell she’s used on him…in fact, honestly, Credence can’t remember why he should be afraid of her…</p><p><em> Just tell me where he is, </em> President Picquery’s voice coaxes him distantly, <em> and everything will be all right. </em></p><p>He should tell her. No—no, he shouldn’t, and a stronger voice, one that sounds vaguely like his own, is screaming <em> don’t, don’t tell her, </em> and suddenly fear shoots through him, quelled by a stronger wave of artificial, magic-induced bliss that is quickly blotted out. Fear and anger swirl in him, and he recognizes what <em> this </em> is, he’s felt it before, but he can’t—no—has to control it—he <em> can’t </em> let the obscurus out here.</p><p>“Credence,” he hears Tina crying out, “Credence, <em> fight it, </em> I’m here, you’re safe, you don’t have to—”</p><p>It’s too late. He feels his consciousness slip away as he transforms and he’s afraid, he <em> is </em> because he can usually keep his head when he transforms, he hasn’t lost control in months and he doesn’t know why he’s losing it now and it frightens him like nothing else. The fear fuels the obscurus and suddenly Credence is lost, he has no idea where or who he is, his mind wiped entirely and replaced with instinct, <em> protect, protect, she will kill you, kill her first. </em></p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>The last time Credence felt this kind of pain, he was ripped apart by fifty spells, torn to dusty bits and scattered around a New York subway like shredded paper. Like he was nothing.</p><p>He is nothing.</p><p>He’s going to die like this.</p><p>He can hear screams, just like on the subway, and then a familiar voice—</p><p>“Don’t cast! <em> Don’t cast, </em> I say, do you want a scene like in New York? Put that wand down. You too.”</p><p>“Listen to him,” comes another voice, firm and carrying, and Credence trusts it, wants to go towards it. “He’s the creature expert. <em> Put down your wand, </em> McCoy, and back up.”</p><p>And then a softer voice, a woman’s, and Credence thinks he could remember her name if he tried: “Credence, please…it’s safe. You can come down. No one is going to hurt you.”</p><p>The obscurus is still wary, still frightened. It curls, undulates, tries to prevent Credence’s conscious mind from intervening—but he thinks he remembers now. Tina. That’s who’s talking to him. Tina, and he can trust her.</p><p>“Please come down. We won’t hurt you. It’s going to be okay…we just want to know what happened, can you turn human again and tell us?” Tina coaxes.</p><p>Credence wants to turn back. He’s tired again, like he was before he went to the home, and—oh! Oh, he’s supposed to be there now, he remembers, and he’s just enough sense to remember that if he goes there, they can make him feel better.</p><p>He slides down the wall, fully human, into the arms of Newt Scamander, and instantly passes out.</p><p>The last thing he hears is Newt’s voice soothing him, “There’s a good man. I’ve got you now. You’re all right.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Time passes strangely after that. </p><p>Credence isn’t sure where he really is, because sometimes when he opens his eyes he’s in bed with Percy, in the safe house, a hand resting on his husband’s swelling stomach, warmth filling him from the inside out.</p><p>But then sometimes he’s standing before Grindelwald, the man kneeling at his feet begging for mercy. Credence always grants it, always steps back just in time for Tina and Theseus to take him away, and revels in the fear and hatred on the man’s face as he is hauled off to jail.</p><p>Sometimes cold fear will sweep through him and he’ll be trapped, he can’t move, he’ll cry out but no one will hear him and he feels something painful shoot into his veins, and then he’ll be forced to relive that moment when the President cast a spell on him.</p><p>He hates those moments. But as if to make up for it he always wakes up the time after that in a pretty, fairytale cottage with Percy, an adorable, big-eyed baby in his arms. He’ll watch his husband sitting on the floor playing with their child and his heart will overflow, and he always wants these moments to last the longest…</p><p>But then he’ll turn around and be in the circus wagon with Nagini again, or in the courtyard here with Tina, or the classroom with Mr. Dumbledore. Credence knows how to disappear from one place and reappear in another, but he’s never done it this fast before, and never out of control.</p><p>He’s dreaming, he thinks. Or he’s dying. At this point, honestly, he’s not sure which he’d prefer.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>“Percival, you’ve got to talk to me.”</p><p>Percival lets out a graceless snort and turns away, facing out the window of his apartment. It’s not a real window. Just a square of glass enchanted with a Scrying Spell to maintain the illusion of connection to the outside world.</p><p>Theseus takes a few steps closer. Percival can hear him. His heart crawls into his throat, eyes blurring. He can’t remember the last time he felt this angry, this <em> helpless. </em> “You promised,” he said, his voice low and furious. “You swore he’d be safe. Where was Tina, huh? And why was <em> Madam President,” </em> he spits the words out like a curse, “wandering around with no escort from the Ministry? <em> How did this happen?” </em></p><p>“Newt is working around the clock to—”</p><p>“Don’t even tell me,” Percival cuts him off. His throat nearly closes. The room tilts around him. He’s barely, just <em> barely, </em> got a hold of himself, but it would be so easy to let go. To destroy. He wants to tear the apartment up and wreck Theseus along with it. “I don’t want anything to do with you right now.”</p><p>“Perce, I’m sorry,” Theseus says softly, his voice gentle and contrite. “It truly was a chance occurrence. I’m investigating now. He’ll have memories extracted, we’ll find out what—”</p><p>“I want to see him.” Percival can’t move. His lungs are full of water, his throat, nose, all of it blocked. He doesn’t feel like he’s crying, but he knows he is. “Until I see him, until I know he’s fucking <em> alive, </em> I have nothing else to say to you.”</p><p>“You know you can’t,” Theseus tells him, sounding pained. “You <em> know. </em> But I can promise—”</p><p>“Your promises mean nothing to me right now.”</p><p>“Why are you blaming me?” Theseus asks, his patience finally gone. Distantly, Percival is aware that he ought to be upset with himself; some part of him does still know that Theseus is doing the best he can. “I didn’t hand him to Picquery, you know that! I would never! He was here to see you, Tina was held up, that’s all there is to it!”</p><p>Percival finally turns around. “Where is he right now, Theseus? And if you can’t give me a straight answer, I’ll know you’re lying. If you say he’s ‘recovering’ or ‘being investigated,’ or the good old classic ‘I’m not at liberty to say,’ I’ll have no choice but to—to believe that he’s—he’s dead.” Even just saying it, even <em> acknowledging it can be the case, </em> very nearly breaks him.</p><p>Theseus meets his eyes. He looks hurt. Exhausted. Every words sounds like it costs him all his strength. “He’s in stasis on the closed ward of St. Mungo’s.”</p><p>Percival feels the breath sucked out of him as if by a dementor. He knew it would be bad, and he ought to be relieved, he supposes, that Credence isn’t dead yet. But magical stasis is essentially a medically induced coma, and is usually used as a last resort for patients so dangerous that even to give them potions wouldn’t keep them safe—or keep others safe from them.</p><p>And it’s usually considered a safe way of keeping magical threats sedated before their “humane” destruction.</p><p>“He’s as good as dead, then,” Percival realizes aloud. His legs give out, and he’s vaguely aware of Theseus lunging for him as he goes to his knees. “Don’t touch me,” he says, his voice alien to his own ears. “I trusted you—damn it to hades, Theseus, I <em> trusted you </em> and now I’ve lost him again! I don’t know why”—his voice breaks, he’s going to cry, pass out, it doesn’t matter, nothing matters anymore—“I don’t know why I thought I could have something this good.”</p><p>“Please…” Theseus sounds genuinely frightened now. Out of the corner of his eye, Percival sees him kneel, just a few feet away. “Percival, please listen,” he coaxes softly. “Credence isn’t <em> as good as dead. </em> He’s not about to be executed or get the Kiss. It looks bad to everyone else, because they think he attacked the leader of a foreign power on Ministry grounds, and I am doing everything I can to protect him. But right now, he is <em> safe. </em> Newt is attending to him, assisted by the people who were looking after him at the group home. He’s safe, do you understand? He is comfortable and he is not in any pain. I know you’re afraid for him, I understand that—”</p><p>“You don’t understand a thing!” Percival can’t help it—just like that day in the hospital with Picquery, trickles of magic slip free, cracking the floor beneath him and making the walls shake. “You don’t know—imagine if it were Leta in there, in a <em> magical coma, </em> completely unable to defend herself, at the mercy of people you don’t know or trust, and you have to sit here on your hands day after day while your former best friend is out for your blood—imagine that and then tell me I don’t have every right to be furious right now!”</p><p>“I know!” Theseus crawls over to him, heedless of cracked floor or shaking walls, and reaches out, palm up, an obvious gesture of goodwill. “I know,” he says softly. “I know how frightened you are, and how much pain you’re in. And I swear I’m doing everything I can to help.”</p><p>“I’m as much a prisoner as Credence, so don’t you fucking give me that,” Percival snaps. “I’m locked up here reliant on you for information.”</p><p>“To <em> protect </em> you!”</p><p>“Well, which do you want, my safety or my sanity? Because I’m going to tell you right now, Hades and Persephone and all of the ancient gods as my witness, <em> you can’t have both.” </em></p><p>Theseus stays, kneeling on the floor with him, both hands outstretched. “Perce, I’m trying,” he says gently. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t push me away.”</p><p>It would feel so good, and Percival <em> knows </em> it would, to give in. To lean on Theseus and accept whatever tenderness he’s willing to offer. To let himself be comforted, even in a tiny way, but—it’s so hollow. All of it. Nothing, he knows, except having Credence safe and healthy by his side where he belongs, will make this pain go away.</p><p>He curls in on himself and turns away, and a moment later he hears the door open and close and knows he’s sealed inside again. Knows that this, or something like it, is his new normal and he’d best get used to it.</p><p><em> You idiot. Thinking you could see him. Thinking you could </em> have <em> him. There’s no happy ending, Percival Graves. Not for you. You never were going to have a life with him. You knew that from the start. </em></p><p>
  <em> If you’re in pain right now, you have no one to blame but yourself. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Credence is suddenly plunged into deep, oppressive darkness. He can’t move, his eyes are so heavy, his limbs are so heavy, <em> everything </em> is slow and sluggish and he knows it’s not ordinary sleep, but he doesn’t have a word for what it <em> is </em> and he’s not sure if he should be frightened or not.</p><p>But then he feels a hand holding his, and hears a low, soothing voice. “Easy there. It’s going to take a minute to wear off. Just try to breathe for me, there’s a love. Nice and easy, Credence. I know you’re very disoriented right now but please believe me, there is no reason to be afraid.”</p><p>Slowly, whatever is pushing him down begins to ease up, like weights slowly being lifted from his body, and after what must be a good few minutes he can open his eyes. His tongue feels like stone in his mouth and even with his eyes open he can’t really see, but that soothing voice—Newt’s voice, he now realizes—is right there with him. “I know. I know it’s strange. Try to relax. It can’t hurt you. You’re safe, dear. I know. There, now. Just keep breathing, just like that, see, you’re all right.”</p><p>He feels two sets of hands on him now, carefully helping him sit up. Something solid is placed behind his back and he’s allowed to lean, and now his vision is starting to clear and he thinks if he tried he could move again. He swallows a few times and finally manages to croak, “Percy—is Percy okay? Did she get him? Did I—” His throat hurts, but he has to ask, he has to know. “Did I tell her where he was?”</p><p>There’s a sharp intake of breath, and Newt sternly says, “Theseus, <em> hush.” </em> To Credence he says, very gently, “Percival is safe, darling. He’s as safe as he can be. No one got him.”</p><p>“The president—” Credence coughs hard and then, with a sharp, lung-piercing gasp he manages to get enough oxygen to go on, “She wanted to know where he was, she—I think she—I don’t know. She put a spell on me—” He coughs again, feels a hand rubbing his shoulder. It feels good, and he leans gratefully into the touch. “I don’t know what happened. She didn’t get him?”</p><p>“No, Credence, she did not.” That’s not Newt. That’s Percy’s friend Theseus, and Credence thinks he might trust him too. He tilts his head up. His eyes clear a little more and he can make out Theseus’ face now, tense with concern. “Listen, we need you to rest and get well, do you understand? We need you, Credence. We need you very badly.”</p><p>“Don’t scare him,” Newt scolds his brother. “He’s just coming out of stasis, you can’t expect him to understand—”</p><p>Theseus ignores him. Credence feels his head tipped back and a potion forced down his throat, and it’s like being yanked out from underwater: suddenly his head, his eyes, everything is <em> achingly </em> clear, the room in sharp focus (he’s in something like a hospital ward, he thinks, now that he’s got a look at it; lying on a cot of some sort) and his heart racing.</p><p>“Newt,” he says, and almost laughs with relief to hear his own voice instead of that weak, alien croak. “I’m so sorry. I know I let the obscurus out and I tried so hard not to, but the president put some kind of spell on me to make me tell her where Percy was, and—”</p><p>“I know,” Newt cuts him off. “I know, Credence. We saw your memories and hers. She didn’t give it up easily and she tried to modify her own memory to make it look like you attacked first. But when we examined her wand, we found it—she put the Imperius Curse on you.”</p><p>Theseus lets out a frustrated noise and Credence looks to him. “Is she in jail?” he asks. What he means is, <em> is she someplace she can’t hurt Percy? </em></p><p>“No, she’s not, unfortunately,” Theseus says unhappily. “She’s back in America, claiming diplomatic immunity. She insists she ‘panicked’ when she saw you.”</p><p>Cold dread settles in Credence’s stomach. “Am I—” His voice breaks. He thinks he might transform again, fear sluicing through his veins instead of blood. “Am I in trouble?” he asks.</p><p><em> Are you going to kill me, </em> is what he means.</p><p>Right away, the older Scamander reaches out and rubs his shoulder again, his voice low and reassuring as he says, “No, Credence, you are not in trouble. We do need your testimony, in order to claim that you were acting in self-defense.” He holds up a vial of some clear liquid and explains, “This is a truth potion. You take a dose of this, we ask you questions on the record, you answer, we’re done. Can we do that?”</p><p>Credence quickly nods. He has nothing to hide, and he doesn’t care if they feel safer drugging him before a hearing. “Can we do it now?”</p><p>Theseus cringes. “I, ah—I’ll need to—well, restrain you,” he says apologetically. “We’re in a magical hospital, you see. But we have to go back to the Ministry for your testimony.”</p><p>“Do whatever you have to do,” Credence says without hesitating. “Will she be put in jail if my testimony is good?”</p><p>“Not likely,” Theseus admits unhappily. “But it’ll keep you from facing consequences. You have to help us at the Ministry, but of course you already said you wanted to do that.”</p><p>Credence nods again, finally beginning to understand what is going on here. “Percy,” he says suddenly. “Where is he? Is he still in the safe house?”</p><p>“He is,” Newt assures him. Suddenly, a tiny smile curves his lips. “And he’s got a surprise for you.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Newt comes to him a week after Credence is arrested, that infernal case in hand, and Percival is about to protest when Newt opens it up and he <em> hears </em> something come out, but can’t see it—and a moment later, something soft and silky lands in his lap, and he almost laughs. Dougal, of course.</p><p>“I thought you could use a friend,” Newt says quietly. He doesn’t apologize. Doesn’t make excuses. Just looks Percival in the eyes and swears, “I will not let them kill him or Kiss him, Percival. I will physically put myself between him and the dementors if I have to.”</p><p>Percival believes him. Newt will flake on humans, he’s seen that—but creatures, <em> his </em> creatures, he will protect to the death, and since he’s Credence’s caretaker, well, he sees Credence as part of his menagerie. But it should say something that even now, he still doesn’t have much hope.</p><p>The days blur together. His mind-healer comes nearly every day, and he refuses to talk to her just as he did Theseus. Tina never comes and Percival is glad, because it means she must be busy trying to save Credence. Dougal sleeps beside him nightly, curled up on his pillow, petting his hair as if to tell him <em> it’s all right, you’re not alone. </em></p><p>He is tired. He is always tired. Being alone and doing nothing is painfully exhausting, and he feels like he’s right back where he started: trapped, a political prisoner, knowing the man he loves is dead (or as good as) and it’s his fault. He all but stops using his magic. What’s the point? What’s the point of anything, if he has lost the person he loves the most?</p><p>And then the sickness starts. The bone-deep fatigue. The nausea. He can’t keep down a bite of food and he can’t handle strong scents anymore. He feels bloated and sick and vulnerable and he hates being alone here, would give anything to be back in the Scamander house.</p><p>He now realizes, however, what Newt meant when he said <em> demiguise are quite protective. </em> He’s never had a little silver monkey hold back his hair while he vomits, but he does now, and he’s shocked the day that Dougal, having learned his post-vomit routine, presents him with a wet cloth to clean his face the instant he vanishes the mess. When he feels too lethargic and unhappy to eat, Dougal is there, holding out a cup of broth and making soft chirrup noises until Percival is able to rouse himself and sit up to drink it. He’s more likely to be wakeful than have nightmares now, but if he does, well. Guess who’s there to soothe him back to sleep.</p><p>The mind-healer, Kimberly, comes even though he refuses to speak to her most days, and once he lashes out and demands why. “In case you think of something you’d like to talk about,” she replies calmly.</p><p>Percival doesn’t feel like talking. But when she comes one day, about a month after Credence’s arrest, he finally does. “I know how this is going to sound,” he says, “but I—I can’t—go on. Not without him.”</p><p>“Well, so you say, and yet here you are,” she points out. “If you really believe there’s no hope, and you can’t live without him, why are you still here?” She waits a moment, and when he just glowers at her, she answers her own question: “Because you know there’s still hope. And you also know that if he were really dead, Credence would want you to keep going.”</p><p>“I hate you,” he tells her with a scowl.</p><p>She fields it with a Mona Lisa smile. “I hear that a lot.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>And then—</p><p>—six weeks to the day after Credence is cruelly snatched out of Percival’s life once again—</p><p>—the miracle.</p><p>He’s just gotten out of a Dougal-enforced bath (the demiguise will not only hop into Percival’s lap with a brush as if to say <em> well, come on, I need grooming, get to it already, </em> but he will also fill the tub and glower at Percival until he gets inside) when he chances a look in the mirror and sees, with a little jolt, just how thin he’s gotten. It’s been hard for him to eat much lately, what with the nausea and lethargy, but he didn’t think he was starving himself and yet when he looks in the mirror he looks…off.</p><p>And then his eyes go down to his belly, and he realizes—</p><p>No.</p><p>It’s not possible.</p><p>Credence wasn’t in control of his magic when he got Percival pregnant last summer. That was different.</p><p>But he was when he came to visit three months ago, when he used the obscurus during sex, the last time he topped…</p><p>No.</p><p>It’s not possible.</p><p>But there it is, a soft curve, a little swell that wasn’t there before, and—no. It’s not. People who don’t eat can get distended bellies, can’t they?</p><p>Percival reaches down and touches the bump, not expecting to feel anything. But when his hand makes contact with his skin he can feel it.</p><p>Magic. <em> Credence’s </em> magic.</p><p>His heart trips, swells, nearly explodes. He has to grab the sink when he feels his knees giving out. Credence’s magic is inside him, and he is—oh, gods above and below, he is—</p><p>He is <em> pregnant. </em></p><p>Tears fall from his eyes as he goes to his knees, both hands delicately clutching the precious cargo inside his stomach. Because oh, if Credence <em> is </em> gone, he has left Percival the most spectacular gift to remember him by.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Percival tells no one about the pregnancy. For a solid week he luxuriates in the knowledge, both terrified and overjoyed, cradling that tiny bump like it’s made of pure gold. “I love you,” he whispers to the baby every time he thinks of it, which is often. “I love you and I will protect you. No one is going to hurt you like they hurt me, little one. Never, <em> ever.” </em></p><p>He thinks of the moment Grindelwald kicked him and shudders. <em> Never again. </em> He made the mistake of choosing country over family once. This time, he will not.</p><p>He starts using magic again. Cleans up the apartment until it sparkles. Cleans out his kitchen and tries to make himself eat real meals and drink teas to soothe his nausea, which he now knows, and can barely repress his delight, to be morning sickness. Bathes without having to be prompted by Dougal. He doesn’t know exactly what to do, but he can’t bring himself to summon Theseus and ask for a healer. If he can, he wants to tell Credence first.</p><p>Newt comes for the first time in weeks, looking exhausted but triumphant. “You look better,” he greets Percival. “Just to be sure, though…” Before Percival can stop him, he’s whipped out his wand and performed a diagnostic spell. His eyes go wide. “Oh my goodness! Percival, are you really—”</p><p>Percival scowls at him. “I didn’t want to tell anyone yet,” he sulks. “I wanted to…” His heart sinks. He doubts Newt came to tell him any good news. “I wanted to tell Credence first,” he admits. “Don’t laugh. I see how stupid it was now. He’ll…he’ll never know, will he?”</p><p>Newt’s shocked delight softens into sympathy. “You can tell him yourself,” he promises. “I’ll make sure of it. You have my word.” He pauses, and then adds, “But from what Theseus has told me, the word of a Scamander doesn’t mean much to you anymore, does it?”</p><p>Percival winces. “I need to talk to him,” he admits. “I was…very unhappy when we last spoke.”</p><p>“I understand,” Newt assures him. “But listen, I need to get back to work. So here it is: Picquery went back to America a few days ago, but it’s taken a while to verify Credence’s extracted memories, so his hearing will be tomorrow. I need you to be ready for court at 8:45 sharp. Theseus will be here to pick you up. You’ll not likely be called to the stand, but if you are they may administer veritaserum.”</p><p>“They can put me under full Imperius if they have to. I’ll do whatever it takes, just…” Percival trails off and gives Newt an imploring look. “Have they taken him out of stasis yet?”</p><p>Newt shakes his head. “I’m waiting for the all clear,” he tells Percival seriously. “The minute I get the authorization I’ll wake him up. He’s safe and healthy, I promise. I wouldn’t tell you that if I had any doubts.”</p><p>“Will they Kiss him?” It’s such a horrible thought Percival almost can’t bring himself to choke up the words, but he needs to know.</p><p>Newt shakes his head again, and looks at Percival through soft, compassionate eyes. “Theseus and Tina would riot if that were even suggested. The reason he’s in stasis isn’t to keep him humanely unaware of his execution, Percival. It’s to keep him from causing further harm to himself or others. You should have seen him when he turned human again after his transformation…he was bleeding. If he’d been awake he would’ve been screaming in pain.”</p><p>Percival winces at the thought. “Will it damage him? To have been under for so long?”</p><p>“No. I’ve cared for him well. He’ll be a little out of it when he wakes up, but that won’t take long to wear off.” Newt sighs, reaches out and squeezes his shoulder once, and then turns to go. “Tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Credence is led to the courtroom in magical restraints, as warned, and placed in a chair that chains him down once seated. This courtroom is not like the other. It is huge, like an amphitheater, and he has the feeling that if Newt hadn’t made him take a strong dose of antianxiety potion before this he would be shitting his pants right now, even though he already knows what’s going to happen.</p><p>“It’s essentially theatre,” Theseus told him last night. “We already know what your ‘sentence’ is going to be. This is basically just so Picquery can’t say that the UK lets prisoners get away with assault.” He told Credence every detail of what’s supposed to happen, rehearsed what he’s going to say. He even let Credence try a few drops of Veritaserum so he could feel the effects.</p><p>Credence is ready, is the point. But it doesn’t make this any less scary, and he wishes he could have Percy with him right now…</p><p>And then, as if by magic, Percy is brought into the courtroom as well, and settled in a seat on the floor near the judge’s bench.</p><p>Credence’s heart soars. He longs to go to Percy, take him in his arms, hold him, comfort him. He knows that lost, vulnerable look in Percy’s eyes, knows what it means, and for a moment a spike of anger breaks through the calming potion. Newt filled him in: while it’s only felt like one night of strange dreams to him, Percy has keenly felt every minute of the seven weeks that they’ve been separated and kept in the dark.</p><p>The trial begins. It goes quick. Credence takes Veritaserum and testifies. His memories are played. Since Picquery is back in America, her statement is read for the record. And then Percy has to take the stand, and Credence melts in his seat as his husband, also under the influence of truth potion, calmly and firmly insists that Credence would never hurt anyone unless provoked.</p><p>The judge, the same one who sent Credence to the group home, gives Theseus a look before he delivers his sentence: Credence will not be sent back to the group home, but given that he is now a political target will be taken into protective custody…and, to make amends for the damage he caused, he will work for the Ministry after his training is complete.</p><p>Percy looks relieved to the point of pain. He stands and has to lean over on the back of the chair, his eyes wet, his chest visibly heaving from across the room.</p><p>Then Theseus stands, and calmly announces to the court, “The Ministry already has a job in mind.” He looks Credence dead in the eyes and pauses for dramatic effect. Credence can’t help but smile. He knows what’s coming and he’s ready.</p><p>Theseus looks serious, but flashes Credence the briefest smile back as he intones, “Credence Barebone-Graves. In light of your past ties to dark wizards, and your fearsome reputation across multiple countries…and now your new position as a high-profile political target…we would like for you to join the Department of Magical Defense and assist us in the hunt for Gellert Grindelwald.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I PROMISE A HAPPY ENDING Y'ALL &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p><p>Chapter summary: Credence runs into Picquery while visiting Percival at the ministry. She tries to Imperius him into telling her where Percival is, and his obscurus attacks her in self-defense. Because it's considered a dangerous outburst and he is assumed to have attacked a foreign power, he is kept magically comatose while they review the case and decide what to do with him. Naturally this does not sit well with Percival -- who is still kept in protective custody while Picquery is in the country -- and he goes into a deep despair over the whole thing, which only ends when he learns he is pregnant with Credence's child. At the end, Credence's name is ultimately cleared as it is confirmed that Picquery attacked him, however to "make up for" the damage that was caused in the attack he is "sentenced" to help the Ministry fight Grindelwald.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. My Head Shouted Yes and No</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi all &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p><p>Chapter TWs:<br/>-Big one for pregnancy (discussion of pregnant man, specifically of his heath and ability to carry a child)<br/>-Same general warning as before -- this fic will occasionally reference or discuss miscarriage<br/>-Discussion of mental health (depression, anxiety; Credence's defensive reaction with the obscurus is treated as a mental health-related breakdown)</p><p>There's mostly just references to those sprinkled through the chapter. No graphic descriptions of anatomy or the like.</p><p>Happy reading! ^_^</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The identical minute that Picquery attacks Credence, Newt Scamander hits the ground running and does not stop for seven weeks.</p><p>He does not sleep the first 36 hours after the attack. His first task is to calm Credence enough to get him back into human form, and with Tina’s help, he does. It is of note (and later Newt will think this, not his efforts, is what truly saves Credence’s soul) that Credence, once in his obscurus form, does not attack Picquery. He turns into the whirling black cloud, makes a small cyclone in the middle of the hall, rips apart the furniture and tears the plaster off the bricks…but he does not attack her. When Newt gets there, he is curled up in a corner of the ceiling as far away from both Picquery and her bodyguards as possible.</p><p>He’s frightened. Newt and Tina get him down, turn him human again. Credence is a mess, bloody welts on his body from where the obscurus burst from his skin. It’s just as well that he instantly faints upon regaining his human form, because this time the obscurus transformation was so violent it not only tore his skin but cracked his bones and caused internal bleeding.</p><p>Even the most violent criminals are allowed medical care, so Newt gets first crack at the unconscious, injured Credence. Treats his injuries as well as he can and administers a sleeping draught through a tube to knock him out while the rest heals. He stays with Credence for twelve straight hours, monitoring him, collecting tissue and fluid samples, keeping him comfortably sedated, and most importantly, guarding him from ministry Mediwizards who may have been ordered to experiment on him or worse.</p><p>Newt despises the Ministry of Magic. He hates that his brother and his crush both work for it, but now he’s grateful to them for appointing him as the “creature expert” to look after Credence, because he would trust no one else to care for his obscurial right now.</p><p><em> His </em> obscurial. Newt takes a moment to chuckle appreciatively to himself. <em> His </em> obscurial, the way he might refer to <em> his </em> niffler or <em> his </em> occamies. <em> Admit you love him, </em> he scolds himself as he takes Credence’s hand, knowing the younger man can’t really feel it but hoping it brings him some peace anyway. <em> You love him as much as you love the rest of your creatures. Well, let’s hope you do as good a job keeping him alive now as you do with the others… </em></p><p>Theseus bursts in at hour 13, accompanied by Tina and eight hard-faced aurors and officials. The Minister of Justice and Madam Malfoy are with them, and they immediately fall onto Newt like doxies on bait, demanding information. Newt is not above lying to protect his creatures, so he already knows that if anyone asks if Credence is dangerous, he will give them a resounding no.</p><p>Tina shouts down the aurors who want to kick her out while they restrain Credence and perform memory extraction, and thankfully Madam Malfoy backs her up. The extraction is performed, and the Minister of Justice presents Newt with a court order: for the foreseeable future, Credence must be magically restrained and permanently sedated. “He’ll need round the clock care,” Newt insists. “Obscurials react unpredictably to foreign magical bodies like sedatives. I’ll need his healer from the group home here with a list of his medications, immediately. Also, I’ll need 24/7 access to him. And I’ll need accompaniment by an auror at all times, and perhaps a record-keeper.”</p><p>“Give him whatever he wants,” Theseus immediately commands when the aurors balk. “This is the oldest living obscurial on record <em> and </em> witness in an extremely tense investigation, gentlemen. We need it alive and well in order to testify.”</p><p>“Waste, really,” snarls one of them. “Did you see that thing? The sooner we put it down, the better.”</p><p>“He’s human,” protests another. “Not a creature. We can’t execute him.”</p><p>“Well, give it the Kiss, then,” snaps the first auror.</p><p>“He didn’t kill anyone,” Tina reminds them icily. “In fact, his maneuvers were clearly evasive and defensive.”</p><p>“That remains to be seen, Ms. Goldstein,” the Minister of Justice warns her. “But if you are correct and your charge was indeed acting defensively, Expert Scamander is right—we’ll need him sentient and in good health to testify.” He glares at the other aurors. “So don’t let me hear any nonsense about killing in self-defense. He is sedated and restrained and no harm should come to anyone who goes near him.”</p><p>Newt stays with Credence until he is so weak from sleep deprivation that he can barely stand, until he faints at the bedside, is revived with a dose of Energy Elixir, and has to be physically dragged away by Tina. “Theseus is with him. He’ll be safe,” she promises.</p><p>“I don’t trust him, I don’t trust any of them…” He would ordinarily be better than this. But he is tired, so tired, and has drug-induced adrenaline pounding in his veins, and he is scared, and he can’t breathe, and he wants so badly for everything to be okay and knows his power to make that happen is severely limited.</p><p>He collapses against Tina right there in the entrance hall of his own home, feeling stupid and useless and painfully emotional, and the last time he wept in front of Tina was when the false Percival stole his case and he was afraid his creatures would all be euthanized—but that was different, he didn’t know her then, he didn’t <em> love </em> her then.</p><p>“I’m here,” she whispers, and pulls all six feet of him into her lap, lets him sit there like an overgrown sobbing puppy while she cradles him in her arms as if he’s precious and breakable and something worth loving. “I know. I know. You need to rest, sweetheart. You need to rest, you’ll be all right, you’ll see…you just need some time. Just sleep a while and it’ll all look better when you wake up, I promise.”</p><p>He buries his face in her neck. <em> Sweetheart, </em> Tina called him. Like Percival says to Credence, like Theseus says to Leta—does that mean what he thinks? He wants to ask but he can’t, words won’t come out, just aching sobs. Newt clings to Tina with everything he’s got and tries so hard to tell her without words that he needs her, that she is the only thing keeping him from bursting into a black cloud and exploding the way Credence does when he’s this upset…</p><p>When he does speak the words tear themselves from his throat like he’s being tortured. <em> My fault. Should have been there. If he dies. They’ll kill him. My fault, my fault, my fault. </em></p><p>“Sh-h-h,” she soothes him, carding a hand through his hair, cradling the back of his neck with a hand so gentle it breaks him. “Not your fault, sweetheart. Picquery did this. Not you. He’ll know, Newt, I promise. He’ll know how hard you’ve fought for him. We won’t let them hurt Credence. I promise.”</p><p>He cries and holds onto her and she holds onto him right back and when they finally kiss it feels like the most natural and inevitable thing in the world. Newt can’t remember the last time he kissed someone but he knows it wasn’t like this, raw and desperate and tasting of tears, and he knows then and there that he will never love anyone else the way he loves Tina Goldstein.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>“For the last bloody time, <em> he was acting in self-defense!” </em></p><p>The Minister looks at Theseus through exhausted eyes. “Director Scamander, I do see your position,” he says wearily, “but the fact is, Madam President has left for America. She is both foreign and the leader of a country, and thus we have no means to prosecute her. Moreover, she will go back to her country and spread the word that we are soft on crime in England, and then where will we be?”</p><p>It’s been an exhausting seven weeks. Theseus has fought every minute of every day to prevent Credence first from being extradited back to America, where he certainly would be executed, then from being given an indefinite sentence in St. Mungo’s psychiatric magic ward. Thankfully being Kissed was never on the table: that is reserved for only the worst crimes, such as mass murder. Theseus can only shudder at the mental image of what Percival might do if he heard even a whisper of the idea of Credence being Kissed.</p><p>But the fact remains that he has been sedated and given multiple forms of medical treatment without his knowledge or consent for <em> seven straight weeks, </em> has been deprived of access to counsel and, perhaps even more egregious under Wizarding Family Law, deprived of spousal visitation. He has been treated like a beast awaiting euthanasia, not a human with magical illness who has been attacked by a foreign power.</p><p>“Credence is not a criminal. The court already decided this months ago. He has undergone treatment for his deficits and the healers were ready to release him. <em> And </em> he has been attacked—gods above and below, Minister, <em> his memories prove that she assaulted him! </em> I don’t give a rat’s tail if you try to prosecute her, but we’ve treated the man shamefully and he needs to be released.”</p><p>The minister sighs heavily. “Theseus,” he says, so gently that Theseus nearly faints in shock; while at work he is never addressed informally. “What would you have me do? If any normal wizard, obscurial or no, assaulted a foreign leader, he would be looking at indefinite detainment in St. Mungo’s until we could prove he was no longer a danger.”</p><p>“But you forget, again, <em> Credence did not attack her.” </em></p><p>“But that’s how it looks.”</p><p>“Looks be damned—” Theseus shocks himself that time. He knows damn well that looks, when it comes to politics and law, are <em> everything. </em> He stops, pulls himself together, and says contritely, “I apologize. Let me try that again: Minister, I do think we can make a political statement by allowing Credence to be released back to the care of his family.”</p><p>“Family?”</p><p>“Oh, my brother. His husband. Ms. Goldstein. You know what I mean,” Theseus says impatiently. “Anyway. I believe we should have a trial that is accessible to the press, and let them think we’re punishing him by forcing him into service.”</p><p>“But the boy has said he would willingly fight for us.”</p><p>“That’s true,” Theseus agrees, “but President Picquery doesn’t know that. And more importantly, sir…” Theseus leans in and taps the <em> Daily Prophet </em> on the Minister’s desk, which bears on its front page an image of Grindelwald wreaking havoc. “Neither does <em> he.” </em></p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>When he finally sees Credence for the first time in nearly two months, Percival feels the breath sucked from his lungs. It takes every drop of resolve he has to keep his face neutral; it won’t do to have a key witness sobbing his heart out on the floor of the chamber ten minutes before he testifies that the defendant would never hurt anyone. But he manages to keep it together. The dose of Veritaserum that they give him right before he testifies definitely helps. Keeps him focused on the truth instead of on his own emotions, and right now he needs that.</p><p>Credence is released from the group home but must stay in a safe house. He expected that. What he doesn’t expect is for Theseus to calmly announce that once he’s done with his magical training, Credence will be required to join the hunt for Grindelwald. Once again Percival feels blindsided. All he can think is <em> no, no, too soon, he’s not ready, please don’t make him do this. </em></p><p>It feels like Hades and Persephone themselves are conspiring to keep them apart at this point, honestly, and Percival isn’t sure how many more times his heart can break before it becomes unfixable.</p><p>
  <em> (No. That’s stupid. It’s the Fates who would keep you apart. All Hades does is take you in when you die.) </em>
</p><p>Credence will spend two weeks in the group home to “recover from his ordeals” (read: <em> we want you tested and examined one more time to make sure you don’t lose your shit again) </em> before he will be remanded to Ministry custody and moved into a safehouse. Newt stands at the end and requests an hour furlough for Credence, insisting it’s only right to let him have a moment alone with his spouse; British family law being what it is, the judge immediately acquiesces, under the condition that Newt and at least one auror stay with him to supervise.</p><p>Of course, once they’re back in Percival’s safehouse apartment, Newt and Theseus all but lock the two of them in Percival’s room together, while they stay out in the common area. “We know Credence won’t hurt you,” Newt says, “and you two very much need some time alone to…discuss things.”</p><p>Do they ever. The minute they’re alone Percival hurls himself at Credence in a way that would be entirely childish and inappropriate if they weren’t married. “Are you okay?” is the first thing he says. “Did they hurt you?”</p><p>“They could have and I wouldn’t know, apparently I’ve been knocked out for two months and that’s weird but—Percy, no, don’t cry, I’m okay. Let me just…” Credence settles down on the bed, sitting up against the headboard, and pulls Percival in close. “Let me just hold you, please. I’ve been dreaming about you this whole time, I want the real thing.”</p><p>Percival needs no encouragement to wrap himself around his husband like unruly Devil’s Snare, and for what feels like an age they lie together like that, not talking, not doing anything, just melting into each other’s arms. He could cry for how good it feels to be touched again, if not for the fact that he’s too damn relaxed to summon up the tears. He <em> can </em> relax, now that he knows Credence is safe<em>. </em> “I love you so much,” he finally says after a good few moments of silence.</p><p>Credence squeezes him gently. “I love you too. I’m sorry they didn’t tell you anything. To be fair, they didn’t really tell me anything either.”</p><p>Percival has to laugh a little at how he phrases it. <em> They didn’t tell me anything </em> is a fine way of putting <em> they put me in a medical coma without my consent. </em>“Well. I have something to tell you, if you want to hear it,” he says, as Credence absently begins to pet up and down his back.</p><p>“Of course I d—” Suddenly Credence freezes, his hand resting on Percival’s waist. “Oh,” he breathes, and with a strength that has long stopped being surprising, he flips them over so that Percival is on his back, with Credence leaning over him. He rests a hand very, <em> very </em> carefully on the soft curve of the baby bump, and Percival feels a little trickle of magic flow through his skin. “Oh, <em> oh, </em> you’re—really?” </p><p>“It’s a baby,” Percival confirms with a smile, and tears immediately well up and spill over as Credence engulfs him in a passionate, but oh-so-gentle, embrace. Percival needs no convincing to let himself be held; he can feel magic radiating around him, and it only takes a second to realize the obscurus tentacles are out now, gently caressing and cuddling him right alongside Credence. “I think someone likes me,” he quips with a shaky laugh.</p><p>Credence draws back, tears in his eyes. “Three months?” he says softly.</p><p>“Three months.” Percival suddenly feels soft, exposed, and he reaches up to pull Credence down beside him, burying his face in his husband’s chest. Credence obligingly wraps every limb and every available obscurus tentacle around him. “I still haven’t seen a healer…Newt knows, he found out by mistake, but I…I wanted to tell you first.”</p><p>“And now you have, so we need to get you to a healer. Will Theseus arrange it?”</p><p>“I guess he doesn’t have to. For the next two weeks I can go back to the Scamander house.”</p><p>Credence deflates a little. “I’m sorry. You’d go back permanently if not for me. I’m a, what’d they say, political target now.”</p><p>“Credence, that’s not why you’re going to be in protective housing. You’re still considered dangerous, sweetheart,” Percival tells him gently. “You attacked a foreign power without orders to do so. You lost control, and international politics being what they are, the person who is responsible for that cannot be held accountable.”</p><p>“I don’t understand.”</p><p>“Well—the thing is, Picquery is a foreign leader. If she were from the Ministry or a foreign civilian, something could be done, but she’s…pretty much untouchable by magical law, as long as she’s president. Which of course makes her dangerous but that’s not the point…the point is, to the rest of the world it looks like you got into an altercation with a world leader. They want you in custody at all times or you’re a flight risk. You could switch sides and go to Grindelwald—”</p><p>“I wouldn’t!” Credence says indignantly. He sits up and gives Percival a reproachful look. Then he frowns and reaches out to carefully push up Percival’s shirt and examine the baby bump. His fingers carefully map the too-sharp edge of Percival’s hip, the hollow underneath the swell where the baby has begun to grow. “You’re so thin,” he murmurs, his eyes suddenly wet. “Percy, you can’t do this to yourself.”</p><p>“Morning sickness,” Percival says automatically, and then under Credence’s sharp gaze he sighs and admits, “All right, I had a hard time when you were gone, and I…I didn’t take care of myself as well as I should have.”</p><p>Credence looks achingly unhappy. “Please tell me you started eating properly when you realized.”</p><p>“I tried, but by then morning sickness really <em> had </em> set in and it’s hard to eat these days…I’m doing the best I can, sweetheart, really.”</p><p>“No,” Credence says firmly. He lies back down and wraps Percival up again, obscurus and all. “You’re going to go stay with Newt while you’re waiting for me to be done at the Ellis Center. And you’re going to let him and the others <em> take care of you, </em> because you’re hurting our baby when you don’t take care of yourself, do you realize that?”</p><p>“I know, love. I know…I’m sorry…” He presses his face into Credence’s neck, suddenly ashamed. “I really am trying,” he says, suddenly desperate to assure himself as well as Credence that he hasn’t ruined everything. “The minute I found out I was pregnant, I swear I started eating as much as I could. Mostly dry toast and cold oatmeal and fruit, so. Not a lot of protein. But I’m trying. I don’t—” His voice breaks, much to his absolute horror; can’t he at least have ten minutes without his emotions threatening to choke him, <em> ugh, </em> hormones! “I don’t want to lose this one, you know I don’t.”</p><p>“Sh-h-h, I know,” Credence says soothingly. “I know, and we’re going to make sure the baby’s okay. We’re going to get you a healer, and you’re going to get something for the nausea—if they have potions that can make me not feel like a lethargic ball of crap on my bad days I’m <em> sure </em> they have ones that can help you get your appetite back—and we’re going to get you feeling better. It’s going to be all right.”</p><p>Newt chooses that moment to tap on the door and stick his head in. Quickly Percival and Credence sit up and disentangle themselves, but the obscurus continues to keep a loose hold on Percival, as if to reassure him <em> it’s okay, we’re still here. </em> “It’s all right,” Newt says with a smile. “You two be as soppy as you like…I just wanted to warn you, Credence, we’ve got ten minutes before our portkey takes off.”</p><p>“Oh, all right.” Credence retracts the obscurus and crawls off the bed. “Newt, can I ask you something? I’m sorry, I know I’m in no position to ask you favors, but…”</p><p>“Anything you like,” Newt assures him quickly. “What do you need, then? If I can get it for you I certainly will.”</p><p>“Just…” Credence gestures to Percival, still sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed. “I want you to look after him while I’m at the Ellis Center for the next couple of weeks. Get him to a healer if you can…make sure he’s eating…have you <em> seen </em> how thin he is? That can’t be good for the baby.”</p><p>“The <em> what?” </em> Theseus appears in the doorway, his eyes wide. “Did I just hear that right? <em> Baby?” </em></p><p>Percival sighs and drags himself up to his feet. “Yeah. I, uh. Credence and I…” He reaches down and nervously pats his belly.</p><p>Theseus’ whole face goes from shocked to understanding to concerned. He pushes past his brother and comes over, carefully laying a hand over the tiny bump. “Merlin, a baby…” He frowns when he, like Credence, feels the ridge of Percival’s hip. “Perce, you’re <em> way </em> too thin.”</p><p>“That’s what I said,” Credence says, as if it settles the matter. “Would you look after him, please, just until I’m moved into the safehouse? It’s just that he—”</p><p>“—clearly can’t look after himself,” Theseus says with a roll of his eyes. He lets go of Percival and calmly faces Credence. “You have my word that he’ll be taken care of, Credence. I promise.” Suddenly his eyes go wide again and he turns to Newt. “Is <em> this </em> how you got him only two extra weeks in the Ellis Center? The baby? Was that it?”</p><p>“Guilty as charged,” Newt says with an unapologetic grin. “The Minister of Justice agreed that it would have a negative impact on ‘both the child and the carrier’ to not have the father around.”</p><p>“I hate that phrasing,” Percival complains, knowing he sounds petulant and not really caring. “We’re both <em> fathers, </em> isn’t that the point of—oh never mind.”</p><p>Credence laughs and laces his fingers through Percival’s. “I know what you mean.” He turns serious. “You’ll go to a healer? And you’ll do what they tell you? And you’ll let our friends take care of you?”</p><p>“I will,” Percival promises him, and the look on Credence’s face as he rests a gentle hand on the baby bump and caresses him oh so gently…that look is <em> everything. </em></p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Credence doesn’t expect his time in the group home to fly by quickly, but it does. On his last day there, Newt, Theseus, and Tina come and lay out what’s going to happen when he is released: he will live in Ministry safe housing, but he will start his training along with the rookie aurors. He’s not to stray outside the Ministry campus unless it’s evacuated. He is not to go anywhere without an escort. And he will submit himself for regular checkups, and will agree to regular blood checks to ensure he is taking his potions.</p><p>He doesn’t care about any of it. All he wants is to see Percy again.</p><p>That night when Credence is at long last escorted to the safe apartment, he’s pleased to see it’s not the same one where Percy was made to stay. This one is clearly built for a family, there’s even a little room set aside to be decorated like a nursery, and Credence can’t help it, he’s so excited at the thought of preparing a nursery for his baby that he nearly floats off the ground.</p><p>But it’s nothing, <em> nothing, </em> compared to the joy of seeing his husband waiting for him on the couch, <em> actually resting </em> for once, and so painfully obviously happy to see him. Percy says nothing, just reaches out and Credence runs to him, pulls him in for a hug, lets Percy melt into his arms. He pulls back and does a quick examination: Percy looks much better now, his face a little less gaunt, his smile a little less forced. When Credence touches his belly it’s a little fuller, and his hipbones and ribs don’t stick out quite as much. He likes that. Percy, he decides, will need to be properly fed up. Spoiled. He is going to <em> spoil </em> this man, Credence thinks with a rush of delight, <em> and no one is going to stop him. </em></p><p>“What did the healer say?” he asks once his escorts have left them alone and they’re curled up on the sofa together, Percy’s head in Credence’s lap.</p><p>“I’m fourteen weeks along, which we knew.” Percy sighs and lets his eyes flutter closed as Credence gently strokes the baby bump, infusing his touch with his own magic as the healers at the Gwen Ellis Center taught him. <em> It’ll help relax him, </em> they said, <em> and it can restore strength…pregnancy is an exhausting time you know, he’ll need all the help he can get. </em> “And yes, they said I was a little…”</p><p>“Emaciated?”</p><p>“Under-nourished, <em> just a little bit,” </em> Percy insistently corrects him. “But I’m working on that.”</p><p>“So I see,” Credence says, smiling as he strokes the delicate swell of Percy’s belly. “You’ve gained some weight. That’s good. But the baby was all right?”</p><p>“So they said.” Percy sighs heavily and opens his eyes. “So they gave me a bunch of potions to take home, of course. One for nausea, and an appetite stimulant if the anti-nausea one doesn’t work, some vitamin supplement potion specifically for pregnant wizards, and…” He winces, as if it causes him great pain to admit it. “A couple of different ones to help with the mood swings.”</p><p>Credence knows full well that’s code for <em> antidepressant potions, </em> and he points out gently, “That’s all right. I have to take those too, you know.”</p><p>“That’s different. You’ve been through a lot—”</p><p>“And so have you,” Credence says firmly. “And now you <em> need </em> to take care of yourself, Percy—you can’t starve yourself like you did the first couple of months. And you need to rest. And I know you want to get back to work but could you maybe not go straight out into the field and get your ass handed to you, you think?”</p><p>Percy manages a laugh and looks at Credence through exhausted, but very happy, eyes. “You’re so good, you know that, sweetheart?” He reaches up and lightly traces Credence’s jaw with his fingertips. “I guess I’d better listen to you. Can’t go around upsetting your husband if he’s an obscurial, right?”</p><p>“Don’t be an ass,” Credence scolds him, but he can’t help but smile. Percy’s just so <em> cute </em> like this, all soft and snuggly and not at all the intimidating, fearless auror that Credence met back in New York. “Are you okay, Percy? Really?”</p><p>Percy sighs and closes his eyes again. “I’m tired,” he admits. “I know that’s supposed to wear off in the second trimester but gods, I hate being this tired.”</p><p>“I know,” Credence says sympathetically, putting a little more magic into the hand resting on Percy’s belly. Percy lets out a soft moan of relief as the magic courses through him. “Does that feel good? The healers at the center said to do it now that I have control over my magic, they said it’d help.”</p><p>“Oh, it does. Helps a lot. Feels like a massage, almost. Mmm…could you do it again, please?”</p><p>Of course he will. Credence will pour every drop of magic he has into Percy if he needs to. He obligingly sends another wave through Percy, smiling at the way Percy sighs and melts under his touch. “I’ll do anything,” Credence says softly, cupping his hand protectively around the baby bump. Their child. This is their <em> child, </em> their miracle, their second chance. “I won’t let our baby get hurt this time, Percy. I promise.”</p><p>Percy turns a little, tucking his face into Credence’s stomach. “No. That wasn’t your fault. I’m the idiot who got myself captured.”</p><p>“Still. I should’ve been there, I should’ve known something was wrong, that <em> he </em> wasn’t you…Percy, my point is, we <em> both </em> need to work to make sure this baby is safe and healthy. So please, <em> please </em> let me help, all right?”</p><p>Percy sits up and briefly nuzzles into Credence’s neck, then cups his face with one hand and gives him a sweet kiss. “I will, lovely. I will.”</p><p>“We’re in this together. I need to hear you say it, Percy,” Credence insists, not letting go of Percy for a hot second.</p><p>With a little hint of a smile, Percy promises, “We’re in this together.”</p><p>Satisfied, Credence reaches down and touches the baby bump again, and this time he could swear he feels a little press against his hand, a little nudge of familiar-yet-not-familiar magic, and he knows it’s his child, trying to reach him, trying to <em> love </em> him, and suddenly all Credence can do is hold on tight and tell Percy over and over again <em> thank you, thank you for this miracle. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>LIke Gradence? come geek out with me @cupcakefoggy on twitter! ^_^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Keep the Pace Just in Case</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>UGH OMG YOU GUYS I AM SO SORRY 🥺😭💔</p><p>I've been so completely blocked on *everything* that it's been a struggle to write at all lately...but this poor fic has been so terribly neglected, like, worse than the others and for that I sincerely apologize. If y'all have abandoned it I 100% wouldn't blame you.</p><p>But for anyone who IS still out there...here are the TWs for this chapter:<br/>-Your usual reminder that miscarriage and pregnancy are two major themes in this fic (miscarriage is only briefly referenced in this chapter however)<br/>-Violence of the spell-casty wizard-y kind<br/>-Dead bodies (magical dead bodies, but dead bodies nonetheless)</p><p>See end notes for TW spoilers as always ^_^ (AND HAVE I MENTIONED I'M SORRY BC I'M SORRYYYYYY)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Percival Graves met Seraphina Picquery on the first day of his final year at Ilvermorny College.</p><p>Twenty-two-year-old Seraphina was every bit as glamorous as she would be as President, and every bit as smart and charismatic, too. She floated into their Defensive Magic thesis class like she was the professor and took the seat beside Percival, sized him up with her eyes, and then said decisively, “You look like you’re not an idiot. I think I’ll sit with you.”</p><p>Percival laughed in surprise. “Well, hold on now. I could be the biggest idiot in the class,” he pointed out, “and just very good at hiding it.”</p><p>Seraphina casually waved her hand. “Not possible,” she said dismissively. “If you were an idiot you wouldn’t be good at hiding it. I’d find out sooner or later. Besides, an idiot wouldn’t come up with such a quick reply.”</p><p>“Fair,” he agreed with a smile, holding out his hand. “Percival Graves.”</p><p>“Seraphina Picquery. And I know who you are. Your grandfather was one of the Twelve.” She returned his smile, gave his hand a squeeze. “This is where you belong. Me, not so much…I don’t really want to be an auror…but it’s a good political stepping-stone and I want to climb high, so. Here I am.”</p><p>“I’ll help,” he offered impulsively.</p><p>“Help with what? My thesis project, or my rise to the presidency?” she said with a playfully wicked grin.</p><p>“Both,” Percival replied, and thus began a fifteen-year friendship.</p><p>What started out as a practical partnership quickly grew into an almost-familial bond. Despite her insistence that defensive magic wasn’t her strong suit, Seraphina understood magical theory like nothing else. She was witty and she knew how to command a room, and Percival quickly got attached to her. No one else could keep up with them. Percival worked hard, but no one worked harder than Seraphina; she put in more hours than the rest of her department combined and only ever went out into society to network. </p><p>Percival wasn’t surprised at all when she became first the youngest Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, then the youngest senator, and finally the youngest President of MACUSA in history. What <em> did </em> surprise him, though perhaps it shouldn’t have, was when someone tried to kill her five days into her term.</p><p>Seraphina was shaken but pretended not to be after the culprit was apprehended. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” Percival said furiously that night, as he paced her office with a firewhisky in his hand. “Never. Gods, that was stupid of me…I thought our enemies would have more sense than to risk an open assassination attempt…”</p><p>“Our enemies?” Seraphina inquired wryly from her seat on the divan in her office. She looked calm as ever, but there was an almost-imperceptible tremor in her voice that only someone who knew and loved her would pick up on.</p><p>And Percival knew her well, and cared for her very much. “You know what I mean. Your enemies <em> are </em> my enemies as long as I’m your director.” He took a gulp of the firewhisky that was supposed to calm him down, but said firewhisky was falling down on the job. </p><p>Seraphina stood up and came over to put her hand on his arm. “Percival, it wasn’t your fault.”</p><p>“No, but if it happens again it will be.” Percival sent a Patronus to his assistant: <em> tell Calvin I won’t be available for dinner tonight. </em> “No more distractions,” he muttered, more to himself than Seraphina.</p><p>“What are you going to do, stay single until I’m out of office?” Seraphina teased him.</p><p>Percival vanished his whiskey glass and pulled her in for a hug. “If that’s what it takes, yes.” He held her close, letting the rise and fall of her chest against his reassure him that she was alive and he hadn’t failed her. “If that’s what it takes,” he repeated. “You come first, Sera. As your DMLE director it’s my job to protect you, no matter what the cost.”</p><p>She squeezed him back, very gently. “You have to take care of yourself, too,” she pointed out practically. She drew back enough to meet his eyes. “You’re my best friend, you know. So you could say it’s my job to take care of you too.”</p><p>“I don’t think the country will see it that way,” Percival told her with a little smile. “So how about this. I’ll…<em>try…</em>to have a life outside the office, if you promise to abide by whatever security measures we put in place to make sure you don’t get offed before you’ve had a chance to pass that law you’re working on to allow no-maj-born children to keep contact with their parents. Deal?”</p><p>“Deal.” Seraphina hugged him again. “And Percival?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>He held her tight, silently promising himself that he’d never let her so much as get a hangnail again. “Anything for you, Sera.”</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>The anti-nausea potions don’t take long to work their magic. A cup every morning, along with a mild dose of appetite stimulant, and within two weeks the morning sickness is kept at bay and Percy is suddenly <em> starving. </em> He wants food, and he wants a <em> lot </em> of it.</p><p>Credence wants to practice domestic charms, so he does most of the cooking and orders most of the groceries. Initially he’s a little tentative as he gets a feel for cooking spells, but soon he’s hit his stride and endeavors with absolutely charming determination to satisfy every single one of Percy odd cravings. And odd indeed they are: soft-baked pretzels dipped in honey, English muffins with tomato ketchup and smoked salmon, ground chicken cooked in cinnamon butter and topped with melted chocolate and chopped nuts.</p><p>It’s insane. Credence has seen street orphans with more predictable diets. And all right, Credence <em> is </em> a little thrown by some of the things his sweet husband eats (one night Percy asks for a supper of shredded wheat with vanilla pudding and mustard and Credence has to will himself to not gag) but all he says is, “All right love, if that’s what the baby wants…” before going to the kitchen and wandlessly charming the ingredients into whatever strange meal Percy has requested.</p><p>Credence is happier now, he thinks, than he’s ever been. He loves training at the Ministry, loves taking classes in defensive magic and he <em> really </em> loves the compliments he gets from his trainers. He’s learned nine years’ worth of spells, he is told, in less than eight months not counting his time in a coma, and he loves being told that he’s doing something right for once. He misses Nagini and Jacob and Queenie, but he doesn’t mind having a safehouse apartment with just Percy. Honestly, he doesn’t much feel like sharing Percy right now.</p><p>And…all right, it would be thoroughly embarrassing if anyone knew, but Credence <em> loves </em> the way Percy looks now that he’s pregnant. When Credence first found him after their separation Percy looked…different. The sexy, fashionable Mr. Graves was gone; he’d been replaced by a gaunt, care-worn man who hadn’t had a haircut in months. Credence he loves Percy no matter how he looks, but he hated to see the reminders that the man he loves got kidnapped, and tortured, that he still wasn’t eating enough or taking good care of himself.</p><p>But now…now, sharp angles have smoothed out into gentle curves, and a belly that was once nearly concave is soft and full. The baby’s sparked an appetite in Percy and made him tired enough to sleep through the night and privately, though he smiles and nods sympathetically when Percy complains, Credence thinks it’s done him a world of good. Because Percy <em> eats </em> now, and he <em> sleeps, </em> and tries to take care of himself. He doesn’t wake up at four AM after going to bed at midnight in an effort to avoid nightmares. He doesn’t volunteer for the most dangerous assignments just for the thrill of it. He delegates more, comes home before seven at night.</p><p>Every time Credence reaches out to Percy at night he can feel warmth radiating from his husband’s body and it makes him smile as he remembers Newt explaining <em> you can expect a rise in temperature, your body is working extra hard now you know… </em> Every time he touches that soft belly, all he can think of is how it will look in a few months, swollen and round with his child. <em> His </em> child. <em> Their </em> child. Their baby.</p><p>Percy can still hide his pregnancy with a glamour spell for now, but it won’t be long, Credence thinks with a quiver of delicious anticipation, before it can’t be ignored. Before the whole office will see that Percy is carrying a child…and everyone will know it’s <em> his. </em> That he, Credence, the nobody obscurial from Pike Street, is starting a family with one of the most powerful dark wizard-catchers in magical history.</p><p>He is lucky, and he knows it. He is <em> so </em> lucky. That a man as beautiful and strong and <em> magical </em> as Percy would love him enough to <em> have his child…</em>right now Percy is the one who’s supposed to be emotional, but Credence is the one who sometimes can’t help but weep out of sheer joy as he realizes just how much he has, that he never thought he would.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Percival strolls into the command center and makes straight for the Magical Disturbances expert. “Talk to me, Anderton. What are we up against?”</p><p>“Inferi, looks like,” Anderton tells him grimly. “Don’t think it’s the Big Man. This isn’t his style. But we’ve got two very frightened families in our safe apartments downstairs, both of ’em claiming that ‘dead bodies’ tried to snatch their kids.”</p><p>“Did they say how many?”</p><p>“They say it was two corpses. Might’ve been a third, but no one can confirm it. That’s not the worst, though…” Anderton prods at the desk with his wand and a diagram raises up, a full map of England. He zooms in on a city about 40 miles away. “At the same time we had a call from the office in Chelmsford…a couple of corpses turned up ’round the river and started trying to drown people.”</p><p>Percival cusses under his breath. This is not good. It takes a tremendous amount of power to raise even one inferius, let alone four or five. And to maintain them, that’s even <em> more </em> power, even more so to have them in separate locations. Even Credence would be worn out trying to do that for more than an hour or two. “All right. So let’s say the two incidents are related—”</p><p>“Oh, they are,” Theseus breaks in, dropping his briefcase on the desk and flipping it open. He pulls out a fistful of telegrams. “More from Chelmsford. Two attempted drownings, two attempted asphyxiations. Not good. Now, we’ve made two arrests. Couple of guys who we think are responsible for the attacks here in London.”</p><p>“Finally, some good news.” </p><p>“Not yet,” Theseus says grimly. “They’re American.”</p><p>Percival’s blood runs cold. Automatically he reaches for his belly, the instinct to protect his child too great to ignore. <em> Picquery, </em> he thinks, his heart skipping. The baby bump is concealed in public with a glamour charm, he never goes out socially, and only Theseus, Newt, Madam Malfoy, and of course Credence know that he’s pregnant. Still…the fear that Picquery or Grindelwald will find out and use the baby to capture him or his husband, will never quite go away.</p><p>Theseus sees the look on his face and nods. “Now, as of right now, we don’t have any evidence that they work for MACUSA. Tina’s on her way to try and lay eyes on them; if they’re MACUSA aurors she might be able to get us an ID.”</p><p>Percival touches his belly again, his heart racing. If Picquery is going <em> this </em> far… “So where’s the action, then, Chelmsford or here?”</p><p>“Definitely Chelmsford. People are panicking thanks to the corpses. There <em> are </em> still corpses, by the way. Two of them at least,” Anderton reports.</p><p>Theseus gives Percival a significant look. “I think,” he says carefully, “it’s time to put our asset in the field.”</p><p>Percival tries not to look like he’s holding back the desire to scream. “And <em> I </em> think,” he replies in the most neutral tone he can manage, “that he’s only had two months of real auror training, and none of it has been in the field.”</p><p>Theseus hesitates, then looks to Anderton. “Thanks for the update,” he says. “We’ll take it from here.” He enchants a bead to act as a radio and leaves it with Anderton, promising to keep him posted, and leads Percival away. Once they’re alone, without preamble he says, “Credence is one of the most powerful wizards we have, he could bring this whole place down. If we don’t take him into the field, we risk our men dying. Credence can protect our people, Graves, do you understand that?”</p><p>Of course Percival understands. He knows strategy. He’s well aware of the cost benefit analysis that must be done here, and frankly, if Credence weren’t his husband Percival would already have him in the field. “He’s not ready,” he protest weakly, but he already knows that he’s lost.</p><p>Theseus looks at him with compassionate, but resigned, eyes and says softly, “Perce, I’m sorry, but I have to override you on this one. We need him.”</p><p>And Percival knows he’s right, so all he says is, “Fine, then I get to take point.”</p><p>“Can you be objective?”</p><p>“Hell no. That’s how you know we’ll both come home safe.”</p><p>Theseus chuckles. “Well, at least you’re honest.” Then he snaps back into stern auror mode. “Have your team ready in ten minutes, Graves. We’ve got to get to Chelmsford.”</p><p>Percival does as he’s told. He tells the little knot of aurors that he and Theseus usually command to be ready to go in five, then goes to the training room, where he knows Credence will be working with other auror trainees. “I need the obscurial,” he tells the trainer dispassionately.</p><p>Credence obediently trots over. “Yes, sir?” he says innocently, looking at Percival through clear, mischievous eyes.</p><p>Percival’s stomach bursts with butterflies, his heart tapping out an impatient beat against his ribcage. He’ll never, he reflects, feel like anyone other than <em> Percy, </em> the soft lover, the turtle without its protective shell, when Credence looks at him like that…which is not good, because right now he needs to be Senior Auror Graves, not a lovestruck moron. “We’re in crisis. We need you,” he informs Credence. “You have five minutes to get whatever you need and meet us in Port One.”</p><p>“Copy that.” Credence hesitates, just a moment. “What’s the nature of the threat?”</p><p>He’s talking like an auror, a soldier, and Percival isn’t sure if it’s turning him on or making him sick. “Level one,” he says carefully, and hears the resulting hush of fear fall over the rest of the room. <em> Level one </em> is bad. Inferi, lethifolds, obscurials, rogue dementors, Grindelwald himself.</p><p>Credence throws his shoulders back, lifts his head high. “I’m ready,” he says firmly, and Percival’s heart breaks a little.</p><p>But he doesn’t show it. Just takes Credence from the training room to the apparition port, where some of his team are already waiting. As they walk, Credence quickly uses a cleaning spell on himself (he’s a little sweaty from training; it looked like they were practicing dueling when Percival got there) and conjures a coat over his training gear. “Is it…<em>him?” </em> he asks quietly.</p><p>Percival shakes his head. “We don’t think so. It’s inferi.”</p><p>Credence shudders. “And here I’d hoped that was a myth.”</p><p>“Oh no. Inferi are very real, and yes, they’re terrifying. The trick is to remember there’s nothing in there to reason with. It’s just like that teacup you made dance the other day at breakfast…it’s not sentient, just enchanted.”</p><p>Credence takes that in, nodding quietly, and when they meet with Theseus and the rest of the team, he remains quiet as Theseus briefs them. “We have confirmed sightings of three corpses in Chelmsford,” he reports grimly. “The two in London have been subdued and those presumed responsible have been arrested. Chelmsford, on the other hand, is not so lucky. We’ve got three inferi wreaking havoc, neighborhoods rioting out of fear, and no clue who’s making it happen. Your mission is to solve all three of those issues. Graves?”</p><p>Percival nods and takes his place at Theseus’ side. “Here’s what we’re doing. Side-along apparition, to avoid causing a stir. Each of you partner up; there’s eight of us, so four teams. Team one—that’s you and me,” he says with a nod to Credence, “we’ll go straight to the town square. Two and three, you’ll get the riots under control. Four, I want you handling any stray threats, and be ready to join the main fight as backup if Junior Auror Gr—Barebone and I are taken out.”</p><p>(It was Credence’s idea to use his unmarried name on missions, hoping it won’t get back to Grindelwald that “the obscurial” has a husband, a potential family. Percival can see the logic in that, but he hates it.)</p><p>He looks to Theseus. “Will we have the Cleaning Crew? Or should we expect to take care of civilian injury and casualty ourselves?”</p><p>Theseus shakes his head. “No, you’ll have Cleaning Crew. They’ll come in after the main threat is neutralized.”</p><p>Cleaning Crew is where ideally Percival would have initially put Credence; their job is to take care of repairs, injured civilians, and any deaths that occur during the fight. (Not Obliviations, though; another team handles that.) It’s where most junior aurors go in the field when they take their first assignments. But such a powerful asset couldn’t be stuck on post-fight cleanup, Theseus insisted, and so: Credence’s first mission will be to take out inferi instead.</p><p>“We’re walking into danger here,” Percival warns his team as they prepare to enter the secure apparition port. “We all have to be ready for Hades and Persephone to take us home, if that is to be our fate tonight.”</p><p>They all nod solemnly. Inferi, they know, are no joke. Credence looks mildly alarmed. “Should you be…” he begins tentatively as they take their places.</p><p>Percival nods briefly. “I need to be there with you,” he tells Credence quietly. “It’ll be okay, love. I promise.”</p><p>Neither of them draws attention to the fact that this is not a promise that can be kept.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Credence’s heart thrums in his throat as he and Percy approach the town square, where buildings are burning, townspeople are screaming, and it’s absolute chaos. He swallows hard as the scout that Percy sent ahead darts out of the mayhem with her long dark hair singed and her jacket sleeve smoking. “It’s not good,” she reports. “People are fighting each other in their effort to get away from the corpses. There’s three inferi, maybe four. We’ll have a bear of a job keeping civilian casualties to a minimum. Don’t even ask me how many muggles are caught up in this.”</p><p>“We’ll manage,” Percy says tightly. “All right then. Reaper, Indigo, Roscoe, Lovegood…you know what to do.”</p><p>The aurors tagged for the containment teams burst into action, separating fighting no-majes and urging the civilians back into their homes, putting out fires both figurative and literal. </p><p>Meanwhile, as those aurors clear the way, Percy fights his way to the center of the action, just in time to blast—<em>something</em>—away from the bleeding, limp form of a fallen no-maj. Credence instinctively kneels beside the girl, knowing it’s not his job but helpless to stop himself. She’s still breathing, thank goodness. He sends a little wave of healing magic through her, the way he’s done for his pregnant husband lately, and tries to banish her to a safe place (but where <em> is </em> safe?) before he stands and faces…dear Lord in heaven…</p><p>Percy is fending off three bony, grey-faced corpses as they all converge on him. He whips his wand around his head like a lasso and a streak of fire circles him, making the corpses all briefly draw back. Credence now realizes why everything is on fire: flames keep the corpses at bay.</p><p>It makes sense. A corpse wants to be in the ground, doesn’t it? (Well. Maybe not “wants to,” but that’s where it technically belongs.) Warmth and light would be a good antidote, right? Credence shouts to Percy to cover his eyes and aims a burst of light at the three corpses, who all stagger backwards just long enough for Credence to pull Percy around the corner of the church. “Okay,” he says in a low voice, “you need to get out of here.”</p><p>Percy looks genuinely startled, and Credence recalls that usually, Percy is the one to call shots on missions. Not today, he thinks grimly. “What do you mean ‘get out?’” Percy demands.</p><p>“You’re <em> pregnant,” </em> Credence hisses. “You can’t be out here fighting corpses.”</p><p>(It’s truly a testament to how insane Credence’s life has become, he reflects as he pulls Percy out of the way of a stray reductor curse that he hopes was meant for the corpses, that he just said those words with a straight face.)</p><p>“I’ll be fine, Credence, I’ve trained for this,” Percy insists. But his free hand is on his belly, and Credence can’t see through the glamour charm that Percy uses to conceal his baby bump but they both know it’s <em> there. </em></p><p>“Stay out of the fighting as much as you can,” Credence orders him. “I’ll go take care of the Lon Chaney gang out there.” At Percy’s blank look he sighs and says, “He’s an actor, he played the Phantom of the Opera and looked like those corpses, he was all painted up to look like a ghost and…you know what it’s not important, just <em> stay here.” </em></p><p>“You know I’m supposed to be the commanding officer on this mission, right?”</p><p>An ice cold hand grips Credence’s arm. Adrenaline surges through him and he instinctively decks the corpse before he scowls at Percy and says, “Do I need to take out your prenatal potion bottle and beat you over the head with it? Would that get the point across?”</p><p>He doesn’t wait for an answer. The corpse he punched out is already back on its feet, and Credence doesn’t waste time in letting his obscurus unfurl just enough to scoop up the body and toss it aside like trash. A few feet away, the other two corpses are each pulling the arm of one of Percy’s aurors. They’ll tear the man in half if not stopped, and Credence is having none of that. He directs the obscurus at their victim, the tentacles carefully wrapping around the man and pulling him to safety. The rescued auror spares him a quick nod before jumping back into the fight, sending sparks at the two closest inferi before diving to rescue a no-maj child from the third.</p><p>Behind him, Percy has already jumped back into the fight, subduing a witch who looks barely old enough to be out of school and is hexing everything and everyone who comes near her out of sheer terror. He slaps on a pair of portkey cuffs that will instantly transport her to the Ministry, then turns to Credence. “We need to find out who’s doing this,” he says. “Which we can’t do until we get rid of those things.”</p><p>Before Credence can reply, the church doors burst open and a dozen angry, terrified no-majes pour out, waving wooden rods and metal candlesticks and burning books and any other weapon they can think of. Credence and Percy just barely have time to dive out of the way. One of the no-majes hurls a burning wad of paper at the nearest inferius, who seems hell-bent on getting through the mob and back to…something, Credence isn’t sure what…and the corpse tries and fails to dodge the flames. Its sleeve catches, and Credence momentarily freezes, watching in mingled terror and awe as the monster drops to the ground and rolls to put out the fire.</p><p>Percy manages to catch one member of the angry mob, a middle-aged man just this side of too paunchy to run properly, and firmly says, <em> “Obliviate.” </em> The man barely has time to sputter out a <em> let go of me </em> before his face goes blank. “That’s better…<em>confundus,” </em> Percy says, then murmurs soothingly to the man, “The most important thing is to get out of here. Ignore the fight and go home. Understand?”</p><p>The confused no-maj drops his weapon and staggers away in what Credence sincerely hopes is the direction of his home. “Not my job,” Percy admits when he’s gone, “but the fewer civilians we have out here the better—damn it, Credence, watch out!”</p><p>Credence obediently ducks as a corpse grabs for his throat…and promptly pops back up just in time to stop said corpse from swiping at Percy. He looks around after hurling the monster aside…and all at once Credence realizes with a wave of horror that the three inferi are here for Percy. They’re stalking him again, batting aside the angry townspeople like rag dolls in their effort to seek him out.</p><p>This isn’t an attack, Credence realizes. It’s a diversion.</p><p>And as the three corpses converge on them again, all he can think of is protecting what’s his. <em> No, </em> he thinks as Percy conjures fire again to defend them, <em> no, you can’t have him, you can’t have our baby, you can’t, he’s mine, not yours, MINE. </em></p><p>(Credence saw what losing their baby the first time did to Percy. He won’t let that happen again.)</p><p>It’s as natural as breathing to turn into the obscurus now, to direct his magic at only the three corpses threatening his husband, his family. He feels them, he can’t really see or touch when he’s like this so he has to rely on instinct to know that he’s only destroying the threat. He knows now, though, how to feel for magic (Percy’s magic), how to channel the obscurus’ need to protect its host into just taking out the most immediate danger.</p><p>He thought if he ever needed to turn into the obscurus again he would be terrified. But he’s not. For once in his life, Credence thinks, he is in the right place at the right time. </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>Seraphina Picquery leans over her scrying bowl and watches the carnage carefully. She hates to do this; it’s more Grindelwald’s style than hers to wreak havoc on an entire village to take out one person. But she thinks she may well be out of options. It was a gamble doing this; after all, she had no guarantee that Barebone would even be there tonight…but for a threat as big as inferi, it was a pretty safe bet that the Ministry would send an equally dangerous asset to take care of the problem. She has people on the ground, of course, but she trusts the enchantment of the inferi to no one but herself.</p><p>(It wasn’t easy. Dark magic does not come naturally to her. But not for nothing was she the most proficient magical theorist in her graduating class. She worked it out.)</p><p>Sending inferi after Barebone is a last-ditch effort. It’s theatrical and pathetic and she knows it. But she <em> needs </em> Graves back, and getting rid of his silly little child-bride is the only way to make that happen. She just needs to get him back on American soil. After that, she can entice him back to MACUSA. Remind him of his promise to protect her. She owes him an apology, she knows, for not being as sympathetic as she should have when he lost his baby (though really, what did he expect, taking up with a dark creature and trying to have a child by it?) but she’s sure he’ll forgive her for that too once he’s free of whatever crude love-spell the obscurial put on him.</p><p>She watches him fight, a smile curving her lips. <em> Oh, Percival. </em> He always has been so much fun to watch. He doesn’t even fight, really; he <em> dances, </em> rarely using his wand except when he needs to use it as a channel (like with those beautiful fire streams that he whirls around like a gymnast with a ribbon) and relying mostly on wandless magic to protect himself. He constantly stops to rescue civilians, even no-majes, and of course that fucking obscurial who <em> never leaves his damn side. </em></p><p>(Really, but if that thing weren’t so volatile, Seraphina would be happy to take it and train it, especially as her erstwhile right-hand man seems so attached to it. The kid is good in a fight, after all, the way he scoops up inferi and tosses them aside like they’re nothing.)</p><p>And then comes the crucial moment. She watches eagerly as all three of the inferi converge on the spot where the obscurial is trying to guard Graves…<em>here it is, </em> this is her chance, and she funnels as much magic as possible into the three corpses (no small task, given the distance, but again, she can do it and she could <em> never </em> trust this to anyone else). She watches, trying to remember to breathe, as the obscurial is cornered by corpses…but something interesting happens when the inferius lunges to grab Barebone by the throat and, when the obscurial ducks out of the way, overshoots and nearly grabs Graves instead.</p><p>Seraphina can just about see the moment the obscurial adds two and two and comes up with five. The moment Barebone looks between the inferi and Graves, when he seems to realize the inferi are after them. No, not <em> both </em> of them; he’s staring at Graves and angling himself towards the inferi, <em> protect </em> written all over his stance. His face darkens and a decision is made, and Seraphina’s stomach flips as the obscurial transforms. </p><p>It’s no less terrifying seeing it happen from a distance, seeing the thin, unassuming body dissolve into a whorl of black smoke and semi-corporeal tentacles. Seraphina remembers all too well the havoc that monster wreaked in the subway and in the Ministry and she is genuinely frightened for a moment that its wrath is about to be turned on Graves. But no…the obscurus only seems to care about the three corpses. Which of course makes it no less horrifying to see what it does to said corpses. Seraphina actually gags, nearly throws up in fact, as one of the reanimated bodies is torn to shreds.</p><p>(Mildly hysterical, she thinks to herself it’s a good thing the bodies are all dead and there’s no blood to spew out of them as they are ripped apart. Strange, the things a mind can come up with when afraid.)</p><p>She grips her wand tight and, since it’s useless to channel any more magic into the ruined inferi, sends patronuses to her contacts on the ground. <em> If Percival Graves is harmed, save him at all costs. </em> If this little monster kills him, she thinks grimly, she will not rest until Credence Barebone is lying on the ground in pieces just as her inferi are right now.</p><p>But when the black smoke winds itself back into the form of a human Seraphina is shocked to realize two things. First, Barebone looks almost as she feels: frightened, but determined. He immediately goes and touches Graves on the shoulder, his eyes full of a compassion that Seraphina didn’t think obscurials could feel. His touch is gentle as he carefully comforts Graves; he speaks and she can’t hear what he’s saying, but everything about his posture connotes tenderness and reassurance. And…is it her imagination…no, certainly not: she’s seen Graves reach for his belly before, ostensibly as a nervous tic from his miscarriage, but now…now Barebone gently lays a hand over Graves’ stomach as well, his concern palpable even through the fogged image of a scrying bowl.</p><p>The second thing Seraphina realizes is that she has probably made an enormous mistake.</p><p>She ends the scrying spell and summons her assistant. “I need to go to London,” she tells him without mincing words. “Come up with an excuse, <em> now. </em> We leave at dawn.”</p><p>“Yes, Madam President.”</p><p>The assistant leaves, and Seraphina stares at the now-still scrying bowl, the image of Percival Graves’ anxious eyes burned into her mind.</p><p>
  <em> Please, please don’t let it be too late. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>-Pregnancy TW spoilers: Percival is pregnant following a miscarriage and there is a LOT of discussion of his pregnancy, including his cravings and all the changes that have occured with his body thanks to the baby. Couple of quick references to his previous miscarriage, most significantly when Credence realizes he's in danger during a fight and thinks that he can't let anything happen to this baby since Percy lost the previous one. Finally, a pregnant person enters a combat situation against the wishes of their spouse (of course, because this is Percival No-Reasonable-Limits Graves and just try to stop him).</p><p>-Violence TW spoilers: A group of inferi attack two Ministry of Magic locations. Credence, Percival, and a team of aurors go to the second location, where the frightened locals are rioting and setting fires to try and deter the monsters. Plenty of civilians, both magical and non, are caught up in the fighting and several of them are only just barely rescued from death. LOTS of mentions of children being attacked in this section (nothing graphic happens to any kids, but there are multiple narrative moments where kids are in danger). When Credence transforms into the obscurus to protect Percival, he ends up ripping the reanimated corpses who are attacking them to pieces -- this isn't super graphic, but it's seen from the perspective of a frightened outsider and is definitely not glossed over.</p><p>-Dead body TW spoilers: Seraphina animates several corpses, called inferi, and enchants them to target and kill Credence. It's unsuccessful, as he eventually turns into the obscurus and rips the dead bodies apart, but the locals are understandably afraid of the corpses, as they do things like attack children and try to drown people in the river. They're described as "bony and grey-faced," and Credence at one point compares them to Lon Chaney in 'Phantom of the Opera.' Ultimately they're defeated, but not before attacking multiple people and inciting a fear-induced riot.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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